Borrowing Trouble

by Mae Wood

  Trip rubbed his hands up and down my arms. “I’m sorry Erica and Josh are a mess, but let’s not let their problems become ours, okay? Maybe we can get our parents together for dinner at my place next Saturday night.”

  “It is way too early for that.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Yup. It is. Okay, you hit the road. Or the skies. Go sell that dollhouse division.”

  “Shh,” said Trip, reaching for the doorknob. “Don’t give away all my secrets.”

  ***

  Erica, oh shit, what’s going on now? I worried over the caller ID display for a second before answering. “Hey, chicka!” I answered joyfully, hoping she wouldn’t hear the concern in my happy greeting.

  “Risa?”

  “Oh, hey, Miri! Everything okay?”

  “I love him! He is the best boyfriend ever!”

  “You have a boyfriend?”

  “No, silly Risa. You have a boyfriend. And I love him. I love him so much!”

  “That’s great. He is really nice.”

  “I love the dollhouse! It is the most beautiful dollhouse in the entire world! It is going to be super huge! And it has furniture!”

  Dollhouse? Trip sent her a dollhouse? Why would he do that. They are fond of each other, but come on, Trip, don’t break her little heart. She’s tiny. Oh, shit! Miri’s birthday! I looked at my calendar. Fuck. Today. I totally forgot.

  “Happy birthday, sweetheart! I love you!”

  “I’m five now! I get to go to school with Simon!”

  Well, not until next fall, but yes, yes, you do.

  “Are you coming to dinner tonight? I picked out chocolate cake!”

  Shit. I looked at my watch. It was four-thirty on Thursday. “Of course, I’ll be there.”

  “Good. Mommy said you were really busy, but I knew you were coming to dinner. Daddy is in New York. I miss him.”

  “Oh, honey, I’m sure he misses you, too.”

  “Can you come over now?” Miriam whined. “I really want to play with the dollhouse and Mommy said that you have to build it for me because your boyfriend sent it.”

  Ah ha, so this is my punishment. “Yes, I will be out there for dinner. I love you. Go give your mommy a hug and tell her I’ll be there in about an hour.” If I leave now, I’ll have time to get her something. I cannot believe I forgot.

  Once in my car, I dialed Trip. After many rings, his smooth voice filled the space. “Trip Brannon.”

  “So do you not have caller ID or do you just not check it before you answer?”

  “Well, hello, Marisa, fancy hearing from you. It’s like midnight here, so I didn’t even look, and no, I don’t trust it.”

  “Oh, fuck. I totally forgot about the time difference. Did I wake you up?” I cringed.

  “No, I just got back from dinner and finished packing. My flight is in the morning. So, did you call for phone sex?”

  “Um, no. In fact, I just left my office a little early today to head out to Erica’s. Seems like I have a dollhouse to put together this evening.”

  “Shit. I forgot to tell you. While we were at the zoo, Miriam kept asking me to come to her birthday dinner. I told her I’d be out of town, but I’d send a present. I meant to tell you that I sent one of our dollhouses, but I guess I forgot.”

  “You’re making me look bad. A dollhouse. I’d completely blanked.”

  “You forgot about Miriam’s birthday? Isn’t that like you forgetting your own?”

  “No, it’s just been a crazy week. And it’s next month by the way.”

  “What is?”

  “My birthday. November. The big three-seven.” I sighed. “Oh, and while I’ve got you on the phone, I need on your calendar next week.”

  “You’ve got me all week. In fact, I think you may have a hard time getting rid of me.”

  “Ignoring your threat to stalk me, I need on your calendar for work. I think we need to make one last run at trying to settle the Priddy lawsuit before I fully get into trial gear and you start getting big bills from me.”

  “Start getting big bills from you? You mean you require more than payment in donuts?”

  “Well, donuts can’t buy me shoes.”

  “Okay, I’ll have Jenny set you something up. I’m too tired to look at my calendar right now.”

  “And I’m on the cusp of rush hour, heading to Erica’s, and I have to stop and get a gift.”

  “No, you don’t. The dollhouse is from both of us. I’m confident that I got that bit right at least. There should have been a card. I know I told Jenny to make it from both of us.”

  “Well, that’s forward. Will you take care of my Christmas shopping, too?”

  “If that means you’ll keep me around that long, absolutely.”

  “Hardy har har. Okay, you get some sleep. We still on for dinner tomorrow?”

  “Absolutely. And all weekend.”

  “You really are my secret weekend boyfriend.”

  “Hate to burst your bubble, but I’m going to be in Memphis for the next few weeks unless something blows up.”

  “I can live with that. Can we do normal things, like have a lunch date?”

  “If lunch date is code for a nooner, then yes, yes we can. Every day in fact.” I rolled my eyes.

  “Okay, before you get too wound up, good night, Trip. I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

  “I hope you mean that, Marisa.”

  “I mean it.”

  I ended the call and immediately dialed Erica to confirm that the dollhouse did indeed come with a card and that Miriam knew it was from both me and Trip. Look at us, giving presents together. Like a real couple. Are we a real couple? I guess we are. We essentially live together on the weekends. We talk or text or email or play Scrabble constantly. We say “I love you.” While we’re having sex. I feverishly began to plow through my time with Trip. Has he ever used those words not on the cusp of orgasm? He’s joked a few times using the “l” word, but no, he hasn’t. Not like I have either, though. And what would it change? Nothing. It’s only been a few months. Calm down. Just enjoy it. Don’t create needless anxiety. Yeah, right. Like I can stop worrying.

  My thoughts bounced around my head crazily until I turned into Erica’s subdivision and started following a silver BMW SUV. No, he’s in New York. Followed it all the way to Erica’s house, staring at the blue Columbia alumni sticker on the back window. Fucking Josh. He parked in the driveway and I pulled in behind him. I threw my car in park and jumped out, meeting him as he was slinging a messenger bag on over his shoulder.

  “Hey, Marisa!” he greeted me like nothing was out of the ordinary.

  “Josh,” I hissed. “Listen, Erica is super upset with you.”

  “I can imagine.” He nodded his head in agreement.

  “You back for a while now?”

  “Flying back in the morning.”

  “Does she know you’re coming?”

  “I texted her. She didn’t respond and I know she’s pissed that I’ve been a complete workaholic, but, come on, Marisa, you know I’m not such a jackass that I’m going to miss Miri’s birthday.”

  “You’ve been more than a workaholic, Josh. At least Erica thinks so. So, we’ll have a good birthday dinner and I’m going to stick around in case I need to take the kids out for ice cream or something while you guys talk. If you leave here without talking with her, you may ruin everything. I’m completely serious. She’s a mess and you need to fix this.”

  Josh sighed and looked at the sky. “Will you be my lawyer?”

  “No. I’m Erica’s lawyer,” I spat. “I am always in her corner. I keep her secrets. Not yours. And especially not from her.”

  Josh nodded. “Fair enough. Let’s go fete the birthday girl.”

  After presents were opened and cake had been eaten, I shooed Erica and Josh out of the house to go have a drink together. They’d been cordial to each other, but the iciness between them chilled me. The kids were heartbroken to see Josh lea
ve so quickly after arriving. Better be sad to not see him for a few more hours than having your parents split up.

  I did my best to try to keep them occupied with constructing the dollhouse.

  Dear Trip, step one in increasing sales of Branco’s dollhouses – make the damn things easier to assemble. This thing might as well be a scale model of the USS Missouri with the directions written in Elvish.

  Finally, the dollhouse was completed. After a few minutes of play, I got the kids into pajamas and with teeth brushed and faces washed, we snuggled on the sofa with SpongeBob, watching cartoons.

  Erica’s head quickly ducked into the living room and I took it as a hint to follow, leaving the kids and dog in situ.

  “Hey, you okay?” I asked gently.

  “Yeah, we’re better. Not good, but better. Thanks for that. You can go home. No fireworks. He’s going to stay the weekend.”

  I nodded. Good. I leaned in and wrapped Erica in a big hug. “Sure you’re good?” I whispered.

  “Better. Now stop worrying about me. Worrying about us. Worry about you.”

  Should I worry about me? If Josh is up to something after eight years and two kids, should I worry about Trip? It’s only been a few months and he’s out of town all the time. Is he eating alone? Taking other women to dinner? I began to drive home, but was antsy and knew I was going lie awake in my bed all night, so I decided to turn my car around in search of the one place I knew I’d find some sleep.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Dad, I know it’s late, but I’m already out at Erica’s. Can I spend the night?”

  “Sure, kiddo. I’ll let your mom know. Everything okay?

  “Yup. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  When I pulled up to my family farmhouse, the front porch lights were on and my dad was on the porch, nursing a beer in the swing.

  “Hey, Dad,” I said.

  Without a word, he bent down, picked up a fresh beer, passed it to me, and patted the swing next to him. I obliged him.

  “Long day?”

  “Yup,” I said leaning back and taking my first sip from the longneck.

  “Need me to beat him up for you?”

  “Who? Trip?” I laughed. “Oh, no, he’s fine.” As far as I know about my part-time boyfriend. “It’s Erica and Josh. They’re having some difficulties and I just worry about her and the kids.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I can’t help but think of Erica as still being thirteen. I guess you’ll both always be teenagers to me. Marriage is hard.”

  “Yeah,” I shrugged. Like I know anything about being married. “Josh is just virtually living in New York because of work” and who knows what else “and it’s hard on Erica, basically being a single parent.” I took another long pull on my beer and looked at my dad’s garden, which was fading into its autumnal slumber. “Hey, random question.”

  “Shoot.”

  “You know when Trip was over for lunch?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You took him out to show him your garden. What were you guys talking about?”

  “The garden.”

  “Sure. And Mom’s sewing circle only talks about dress patterns. What did you two talk about? Since college, I don’t recall you cornering any guy I’ve brought home for a meal like that.”

  “Well, now, it wasn’t about you, if that’s what you were worried about. It’s something I had a question about and he seemed like someone whose opinion I could trust.”

  “That’s not particularly a straight answer.”

  “That’s all I’m giving you. Go on in. Your mom is putting fresh sheets on your bed. I’m going to have another one out here. See you in the morning, sweetheart. I love you.”

  I stood and with my beer in one hand, placed the other on my dad’s shoulder before leaning down and placing a kiss on the top of his head. “Night, Daddy. I love you.” I dropped my purse in the living room and made my way upstairs to my childhood bedroom. “Hey, Mom.”

  “Sweetie, such a nice surprise,” she said, pausing while tucking in blankets on my bed. “Just making a fresh bed for you.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “You good?”

  “Yup. I’m tired. I’ve been at Erica’s. Today was Miriam’s fifth birthday.”

  “Already!”

  “I know. Makes me feel ancient.”

  “If it makes you feel ancient, sweetie, don’t ask me how I feel.” My mom laughed. “Need anything?”

  “Nope. Just going to crash. I love you.”

  “Love you, too, sweetie,” she said, giving me a quick hug. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

  I kicked off Friday morning with coffee, bacon, banana pancakes, and a segmented orange, all courtesy of my mother. “I should come home more often.”

  “I’m not going to argue with that. I’d love to see you more.”

  “Mom, what are you and Daddy doing tomorrow night?”

  My mom paused for a moment while stirring Splenda into her coffee. “Can’t think of anything special.”

  “Would you like to have dinner with me and Trip?”

  “Absolutely, sweetheart.” Her face nearly cracked from the large smile that crossed it.

  “Great. I’ll talk with Trip and make sure it’s okay with his schedule and I’ll text you details. He’s been out of the country all week, so I can’t promise anything, but I want to make it work.”

  “Sounds nice. You thinking about dinner downtown, out here, or meeting somewhere in between?”

  “Not sure yet.” Depends upon how brave I’m being and what Trip’s up for.

  “Okay. Just let me know. I’ve got to scoot to a Rotary breakfast meeting. Your daddy is still asleep. You have a great day.”

  “Love you.” So it is easy to say and to mean.

  My phone rang around two o’clock and I grabbed it, noting the Branco general line on the caller ID. He’s back! He’s back early! I wanted to do a little dance, but instead, I spoke my name.

  “Miss Tanner? It’s Jenny, Mr. Brannon’s assistant. He emailed me that you need some time on his calendar next week. I’m calling to set that up.”

  Bummer. Not Trip. “I need forty-five minutes. Maybe an hour. Could be a conference call, if that works for him.”

  “I think we may have our wires crossed. He said in person. In his office. Said he’d prefer lunch.”

  I smiled and rolled my eyes. Nooner. “Okay. Tuesday, then?”

  Jenny laughed. “Umm, Miss Tanner? I was under the impression that I’m supposed to book you for lunch every day next week.”

  I shook my head. He doesn’t stop, does he? “Jenny, please call me Marisa.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I mean, sure, Marisa.”

  “Thank you for the flowers a couple of weeks ago. The lilies? They were really nice.”

  “How did you,” she began.

  “Because as much as I adore Trip, I don’t see him calling a florist. And, even if he did call a florist, it’s not like he figured out what shop to call. So, the thanks go to either you or his mom. And for this, I’m laying money on you.”

  “I’m not saying a word.”

  “And thank you for the New York plans. They looked lovely. I really wish it had worked out and we’d gotten to go.”

  “No problem. I’m happy to rebook that anytime for y’all. So, lunch next week?”

  “Sure. I can do Monday, Tuesday and Friday. Can I also get a non-lunch time with him?”

  “Okay. How about right before lunch on Monday?”

  “Works for me.”

  “Oh, one last question. Do you have any dietary restrictions?”

  “Um, no.” Because his assistant also needs to know my blood type?

  “Great. I’ll just have lunches sent up from the cafeteria, then.”

  He wasn’t kidding about the nooner. Lunch in his office. Um, okay, no. Jimmy’s office is down the hall. And Jenny sits right outside his door. It’s one thing for her to ord
er flowers for me and book us a weekend away. It’s another thing for her to know we’re screwing just on the other side of a closed door. Oh fuck. That corner of his office with the table that can’t be seen from the doorway. I’m sure as hell not eating lunch there. I can’t have anyone walk in on that. I need to be above reproach. Like Caesar’s wife. Was that Portia? Hell, I hope not. She swallowed coals.

  “Miss Tanner?”

  “Yes,” I said, snapping out of my introspective daze.

  “Anything else?”

  “Is his flight still scheduled to get back around four?”

  “Let me check. Yes, everything appears on schedule,” she said after a pause.

  “See you next week, Jenny, and thanks again.”

  I set the phone back in its cradle. I rested my head on my chair and stared at the ceiling. Does he really think that I’d honestly have sex in his office? In the middle of the day? Sure, maybe late one evening or on the weekend, and, I mean, we both live within less than two miles from our offices. I’m not adverse to this idea of afterhours sex at the office or a quickie over lunch, but is this what he sees in me? Sex anytime he wants it?

  It’s not like I’ve asked him to expect anything different. When we’re together, we’re essentially rabbits. He’s said he loves me and Lord knows I’m totally beyond help when it comes to him, but it’s been a lot of sex. Crazy good mind-melting sex, but just sex. Easy to say “I love you” when my mouth is on your dick, right? Or on the cusp of orgasm. Huh. Maybe eating dinner with Mom and Dad isn’t such a good idea.

  My mobile chimed with a text message. On the ground in ATL. Thru customs. 45 min ‘til flight to MEM is wheels up.

  Glad to have you stateside, I typed on the screen.

  A beat later, it lit up with an incoming call. “Hi,” I said, raising it to my ear.

  “Hi, yourself. I didn’t want to bother you with a call if you were busy.”