The Game of Denial

by Brenda Adcock

"I hope I get a chance to see her while she's in the city," Monica said, tracing a finger down the side of Joan's face.

  "You're extremely tempting, you know," Joan said.

  "I hope so. Tempting enough for another kiss?"

  Joan chuckled as she tilted her head. "Absolutely," she said just before her lips met Monica's and pulled her body closer.

  The office door opened and Joan heard someone clear their throat. She brought the kiss to an end and glanced at the door. She smiled when she saw Fran, blushing slightly.

  "I wasn't expecting you this early," she said softly as she embraced Fran.

  "Obviously," Fran said. "That shade of lipstick doesn't really suit you," she added.

  "I have to go, darling," Monica said. She looked at Fran. "You look wonderful, Fran. Marriage must agree with you."

  "I'll call you this evening," Joan said as she followed Monica to the door. She took a deep breath before moving to her chair behind the desk.

  "I don't have a key to the townhouse and no one answered when I called," Fran said. "Your secretary was away from her desk when I arrived."

  "Meg's volunteering with a youth group and Margaret needed the day off for a medical appointment," Joan said, steepling her fingers in front of her as she spoke. She opened the bottom drawer of her desk and fished her keys from her purse. She removed a house key and slid it across her desk. "I'll be home a little after five. Margaret prepared something for dinner, but it might have to be reheated. You know where everything is."

  "We should talk this evening," Fran said as she picked up the key.

  When the door to her office closed again, Joan felt her entire body sag as she crossed her arms and dropped her head on them. She couldn't remember a time when she had ever felt so humiliated even though she'd done nothing wrong.

  BY THE TIME Joan's driver opened the back door of her car, she had a thundering tension headache. She leaned for a moment against the side of the vehicle and rubbed her forehead with her thumb and index finger.

  "You all right, Ms. C?" Lou asked.

  "It's been a very long day, Lou." She patted her driver on the shoulder and managed an attempt at a smile. "Enjoy your evening and I'll see you in the morning."

  "Maybe you should take a day off and relax," Lou suggested.

  "I'll leave a message if I decide to take your advice. Good night."

  Joan took a deep breath and trudged up the front steps. She grabbed the door knob, pausing for a moment before entering and facing what she was sure would be irritated voices. But what had she done wrong? Absolutely nothing. Her children had pestered her for years to get back on the bicycle of life and pedal. Well, she had and now Fran seemed upset that Joan had become socially active again. If Fran had been surprised to find Monica in Joan's office, she would get over it. Granted, a kiss-fest in her business office had been professionally ill-advised. Or had it been? She had nothing to be ashamed of. After all, she still owned the business outright. She shook her head slightly and was determined not to act so fucking guilty.

  Joan turned the knob and stepped inside, carrying her briefcase into her home office and placing it in its usual spot on her desk. She unbuttoned the jacket of her suit and pulled a small stack of papers from the briefcase. She dropped them on her desk and made her way to the wet bar along the side wall. She opened a small refrigerator and placed two ice cubes in a glass and slowly poured it half full of scotch. Martine was always waiting, drink in hand, when Joan came home from work each day. She took a sip before leaving the office to change. As she made her way up the staircase to the second floor she was struck by how quiet her home was. She smiled remembering the sounds of laughing, squealing children filling the space as they ran up and down the stairs. Everything seemed so natural then. She thought she'd enjoy the quiet, but now it only served as a reminder of how alone she was.

  In the sitting room of her bedroom Joan stripped out of her suit and neatly placed everything on hangers or in the laundry basket. She pulled a comfortable t-shirt over her head and tucked the tail into a faded pair of jeans. She slid her feet into a favorite pair of moccasins, picked up her glass, and closed the bedroom door behind her. Back on the main floor she walked into the kitchen. Once home from work and changed, she often felt like the Nebraska farmer's daughter she had once been. She raised her hand and ran it through her hair, pushing it off her forehead.

  DINNER THAT EVENING was a relatively quiet affair. Meg peppered Fran with questions about her new gallery, as well as about Loganville itself. Fran seemed excited about the work of the two artists recommended by her former employer. She asked Joan's advice about promoting the new artists and how to best use funds for promotional material. By nine o'clock everyone seemed ready to retire and get a good night's sleep.

  Joan changed into a pair of boxers and a well-worn t-shirt before climbing into bed to go through the latest paperwork from Tucker that would eventually formalize the transition of the agency into Charmaine's hands. She hoped everything could be finalized by the end of the year. A tap at her bedroom door interrupted her reading.

  "Come in," she said as she returned to her reading.

  Fran walked in and perched on the foot of Joan's bed. Joan smiled and removed her reading glasses. Fran took a deep breath as Joan looked at her.

  "I'm sorry, Mom," Fran said, playing with an errant thread on the bedspread. "I didn't expect to find you and Monica having...a moment. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

  "We weren't doing anything wrong and have nothing to be embarrassed about. You know we've been seeing one another since before Christmas."

  "I guess I'm not used to seeing you kiss anyone other than Mama and I was surprised you're still seeing Monica."

  "It wasn't anything we planned. She was your Mama's best friend and has mourned her just as I have."

  "I know, but I always thought she was a little...I don't know."

  "Pushy?" Joan laughed.

  "Over-eager, I think."

  "Would it upset you if we were in a relationship?"

  "Not if it truly made you happy. I guess I knew you would find someone eventually. I just didn't expect it to be Monica."

  Joan closed her eyes for a moment. "I don't expect to find what I had with your Mama again."

  "Have you? With Monica, I mean. She's a very beautiful woman, but I don't see you with her permanently."

  Joan lowered her eyes and stared at the papers in her hands without really seeing them. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. "We can't always have what we want." Her eyes rose to meet Fran's. "Being able to accept that is a sign of maturity."

  "It's a sign that you've given up on having the life you really want!"

  "That's not true," Joan said.

  "I'm assuming you're intimately involved with Monica."

  "That's none of your business. I will not discuss my personal life with you," Joan said.

  "Charmaine tried to convince me the last time I spoke to her that you were attracted to Evey."

  "She's an attractive woman."

  Fran tried to read what was in Joan's eyes. "Do you like her?"

  "Of course I like her. She's very nice."

  "Are you afraid to ask her out because she's my mother-inlaw? Brad and I couldn't care less."

  "She's made it perfectly clear she's not interested in me as more than an in-law."

  Fran frowned. "When did she tell you that?"

  "I don't want to discuss this any further, Fran."

  "You didn't see the look on her face when she found out you were dating Monica."

  Joan's eyes snapped up and she was filled with sudden anger. "I saw the look on her face when she pushed me away after I kissed her. She said she couldn't do that to her children." A tear trickled down Joan's cheek and she wiped it away angrily. "Are you happy now?"

  "She's afraid. She doesn't know about any of her kids except Tully and he's not there anymore."

  "I thought he returned home after that fiasco at Christmas."

 
; "He found a job as an exercise rider and assistant trainer at a track in Maryland. He only came back long enough to pack his stuff. You know Beth doesn't care and neither does Brad."

  "I never thought I'd say this, but I am involved with a lovely woman who only wants to make me happy while I can't stop thinking about another woman who wants nothing to do with me. No matter what, someone will be hurt. I don't want to be the cause of that." She looked at Fran and smiled, "Frankly, I don't think I'm worth it."

  Fran stood up and moved to the side of the bed. She leaned down to hug her mother. "I can't stand to see you so unhappy."

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  "FRAN!" EVEY SMILED when she opened her front door and found her daughter-in-law standing on her porch. She embraced the young woman warmly and escorted her into the house. "Did Brad come with you?" Evey asked, taking Fran's coat.

  "No. I came alone. I hope I'm not stopping you from doing something important," Fran answered.

  "Not at all." Evey waved her hand dismissively. "Come in the kitchen. I just made a fresh pot of coffee. Have you already eaten?"

  "I'm fine, Evey, but I'd love a cup of coffee," Fran said as she followed her through the dining room.

  Evey joined her at the kitchen table and they sipped their coffee silently. Finally Evey asked, "What brings you down here, Fran? You and Brad aren't having a problem are you?"

  "No, no," Fran said. "Brad and I are fine. The gallery is doing fine. In fact, I will be having a showing of the works of a couple of new artists in about a month."

  "It sounds like everything is falling into place for you then."

  "I was in New York about a week and a half ago to look at their work. I think it will go over well here. Not too avant garde," Fran smiled. She paused for a moment and bit her lower lip. "I stayed with Mom while I was there."

  "Really," Evey said, not looking at Fran. After a swallow of her drink she asked, "How is she?"

  "Pretending to be happy."

  "Pretending?"

  "She's in a bit of a quandary. You see, she's found a woman she cares about very much, but who apparently isn't interested in her. As a result she's become sort of involved with another woman and doesn't want to hurt her even though she doesn't love her. It's very confusing." Fran shook her head and sighed as she drank her coffee. "I wish there was something I could do, but she really doesn't want to discuss it. I tried, but..." Fran shrugged. Then she smiled. "But none of that is really your problem."

  "No, it isn't."

  "I just needed to talk to someone about it. Sorry." Fran took a deep breath. "The real reason I'm here is to pick up the last of Brad's things. According to him, there are a few things he simply cannot live without."

  Evey smiled, "What does he need? I thought he took everything."

  Fran pulled a slip of paper from her pocket. "He left some paperwork in a file cabinet in the little house and there are a couple of items he was storing in your attic."

  Evey finished her coffee. "Attic first? It might take a while. I stored Tully's things up there as well."

  "Have you heard from him?" Fran asked as she carried her cup to the sink and rinsed it out.

  "He called. Said he'd be down in a couple of weeks to get the last of his stuff." Evey rolled her eyes. "Of course, he needs to borrow a horse trailer to haul everything back."

  "Aren't you lonely out here by yourself?" Fran asked, following Evey up the front stairs.

  "Ralph's here," Evey said. "We keep busy."

  A little after midday, Evey put the last of Brad's things in the trunk of Fran's car. Her daughter-in-law had managed to find a couple of old items, along with Brad's things. They would look wonderful in the gallery and Evey was glad to rid herself of more junk. She and Fran hugged before Fran got in her vehicle to leave. Evey waved at the retreating car before returning to the house. She walked into the mud room behind the kitchen and carried her work boots to the kitchen table to pull them on. In the middle of tying the laces, she felt moisture on her face and wiped at it. Why had Fran needed to tell her about Joan? She had almost stopped thinking about her, about the feel of her lips, the solidness of her body, the scent of her skin. And now Fran had dragged it all up again. Joan had moved on. She found someone to share her life with, even if it wasn't the person she wanted. Evey needed to think about that. She was the one sitting alone in a large house, warming herself in front of a fire. She could be snuggled against a warm body, waiting to be kissed, desperate to be loved. She shook her head and stood up. Her hands were shaking and she shoved them into her coat pocket and walked out the back door.

  A MONTH LATER Joan was brushing her hair into place, preparing to go out. She had accepted Monica's invitation to a dinner party and was actually looking forward to it. Since the night they had been together before Christmas, she had spent quite a bit of time with Monica. Despite her flirtatious manner, Joan did enjoy talking with her. She had managed so far to deflect Monica's attempts to take their relationship to a deeper level, but she had to admit it was becoming more difficult. Joan missed being intimate with another woman, she missed being touched and stroked. She missed being adored and cherished. She believed that eventually she could learn to care for Monica, but never as much as Monica wanted.

  When the phone in her sitting room rang, Joan went to answer it, tilting her head to remove an earring. "Hello," she answered. She was shocked by the voice on the other end of the line.

  "Joan?" Evey's voice said.

  Joan needed to sit down. "Evey. What a pleasant surprise. How are you?"

  "I need to talk to you. I mean, we need to talk."

  "Is something wrong?"

  "No. I need to...see you."

  Joan exhaled through her nose. "Why?" she asked, feeling anger at the memory of the last time they met. "So you can slap me in the face again. I won't be led on and then pushed away as if being near me was something to be ashamed of."

  "I have never led you on," Evey said, her voice sounding small and fragile.

  "You led me to hope for something that can't be. I won't...I can't do that to myself any longer. I'm sorry." She paused for a moment. "Goodbye, Evey." Before she could change her mind she hung up and dropped her face into her hands.

  JOAN WENT THROUGH the motions, making light conversation with Monica's other guests over dinner, laughing in all the appropriate places when someone told what they thought was a humorous story. She couldn't remember ever feeling so uncomfortable in her own skin. This wasn't her. At times she felt like she was standing outside herself, watching the activity around her.

  "Are you all right, darling?" Monica asked after dinner as she slid an arm around Joan's waist and kissed her on the cheek.

  Joan smiled at her. "I'm fine."

  "Just fine? Then I'll have to try harder. You look like your dog died."

  "I'm sorry. Just tired." She faced Monica and kissed her lightly. "Not your fault."

  "Maybe we need to get away for a few days to recharge your batteries."

  Joan nodded. Why did she have to call? Why did the sound of her voice cause Joan's heart to beat faster? Why?

  Monica brought her lips closer to Joan's ear. "Are you staying with me tonight?" she said.

  "I'm sorry. I can't," Joan said. "I'm going out of town on business tomorrow."

  Monica's hand stroked lightly along the side of Joan's face. "When will you be back?"

  "I don't know yet. A few days, depending on what happens."

  "We're so good together. I know you care about me, darling."

  "I do care, but I don't love you. I'm sorry, Monica."

  "You're going to her, aren't you?" Monica said. When Joan didn't say anything, Monica narrowed her eyes. "Do you expect me be here when she rejects you again? And she will, you know?"

  "We're only meeting to talk." Joan answered with a shrug.

  "Don't do this, Joan. What we have together is good. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

  "Of course it does." But it's not enough.

&
nbsp; "I've given you everything, everything, you've wanted," Monica said, her voice rising.

  Joan looked around and saw Monica's other guests looking in their direction.

  "Please lower your voice. This is a private matter. It doesn't involve your other guests."

  Monica's face twisted and she clenched her hands. "Don't you want our friends to know you're thinking about another woman while you're fucking me? That you called out her name when we made love? You only want her because you can't have her." Monica laughed, but there was no humor in it. Her face changed as she realized what she'd said. "You were making love to her, weren't you? Touching her?" She pressed her hand against her forehead. "How could I have been so stupid?" Impulsively Monica slapped Joan's face. Then she tried to take Joan in her arms, but Joan's look stopped her.

  "I'm sorry if I hurt you, Monica," Joan said calmly, setting her glass down. "That was never my intention."

  "You'll be back!" Monica yelled as Joan walked to the apartment door and turned the knob.

  Joan stopped and glanced back at Monica. "No matter what happens, I won't be back," she said before she closed the door behind her. She heard a glass shatter against it as she made her way to the elevator. She felt like a cad, but knew she'd made the right decision.

  EVEY DRIED HER hands on a dish towel as she walked through the dining room toward the front door. She thought she'd heard someone knocking. She glanced at the clock mounted on the living room wall and looked out the front window. She didn't recognize the vehicle parked on the grass near the front porch.

  Another knock at the door startled her. She opened it and was shocked when Joan turned to face her.

  "Joan. I wasn't expecting you," Evey stammered.

  Joan cleared her throat as she looked around. "I wasn't expecting to be here. You said we needed to talk."

  Evey looked down at the boards on the front porch. "And you said goodbye."

  "I was upset. May I come in?" Joan asked, hunching her shoulders against the cold air.