Sex Happens

by Carol Soloway

  Liz put on her glasses and looked at the picture. “Danny Glover’s now moonlighting as a plumber.”

  “He owns the franchise,” Alex said.

  “So he doesn’t actually do the dirty work?” Meredith asked.

  “Well, he says he has to work if one of the plumbers calls in sick or there’s a complicated job.”

  “Not likely,” Liz said. “The owner of a franchise does not do the work. He might do the scheduling and administrative work. And what else do you know about him?”

  “Not much,” Alex admitted. Nervous about her date with Luke, Alex had thought about cancelling, but she’d always followed the predictable path, and where had it gotten her?

  Meredith squinted at the picture. “The plumber definitely has a hard bod.”

  “His legs are muscular,” Alex said. “And when we play tennis, he looks amazing in his white shorts. I could even see the ‘V’ of his jockstrap around his buttocks.”

  “Jockstrap?” Meredith queried. “Who wears those anymore?”

  “He obviously needs one,” Terrie said and rubbed her palms together. “This is so juicy! It’s just like Sex and the City.”

  “At our age, we’re more like The Mothers of Sex and the City,” Alex said.

  “Give us the details,” Liz said, impatiently twirling her pearls.

  “At first, Luke seemed uncomfortable at the club, but then he mixed with everyone. Maybe from being in the Marines,” Alex said.

  Liz almost choked. “Oh, wait, this gets better: The Doctor and the Marine-Turned-Plumber. Could be our next book club selection.”

  “Get to the dancing,” Meredith said.

  “One Friday night after tennis, we all went upstairs to the bar. Luke and I were standing near the dance floor. They played some song by Natalie Cole. Before I knew it, we were dancing.”

  “Sounds delicious.” Terrie wiped a drop of ketchup from her chin. She reached for another fry. “What kind of a dancer is he?”

  “Perfect.” Alex smiled.

  “Now we have a sexy bi-racial plumber in a jockstrap dancing with our Alex,” Liz chided.

  Alex shot her a withering look.

  “You know what they say about dancing?” Terrie licked some ketchup.

  “No,” Alex said.

  “Vertical sex.” Terrie winked.

  Meredith gave a knowing smile. “When you do have sex with him, I’ll give you a little secret for some mind-blowing—”

  “Why is everything with you about sex?” Liz scowled.

  “What else would she be doing with a plumber?” Meredith asked.

  “Actually, I’m going out with him tonight,” Alex said, still not sure and nervous about dating Luke Jackson, a man she didn’t really know.

  “Tonight?” Liz raised her voice. “Without even discussing it with me?”

  “See what happens when you don’t call me back?” Alex chided, but she thought if she’d spoken to Liz about this, maybe she would’ve cancelled the date.

  “Meredith was about to give us the latest sex techniques,” Terrie said. “I might need them. After all, I’m still a newlywed, you know. Going on two years next month, and it’s marvelous.”

  Meredith held up a tin box embossed with the Victoria’s Secret logo and “Sexy Little Cinnamon Mints” printed across the top. “Warren gave me this and a few other things last night.”

  “I’m sure he knows a little box of mints isn’t a good enough gift for Meredith,” Liz said. “I’m sure Warren also gave you something else with a little more glitz.”

  “Of course, he knows me well enough,” Meredith said and held out her wrist, flaunting her new Cartier bracelet.

  “What’s so special about mints?” Alex asked.

  “Use your imagination,” Meredith said. “You put a mint in your mouth and then go down on him.”

  “I’m allergic to cinnamon,” Alex said and blushed. Sex with Gabe had been the missionary position with him on top. She’d occasionally climb on him, but only when he asked her. He’d seemed satisfied. But now, she knew he hadn’t been. Maybe if she were more like Meredith, Gabe wouldn’t have strayed.

  “How else are you going to attract a man, now that you’re single?” Meredith asked.

  The waitress came to their table to offer coffee or tea. When they declined, as they usually did, the waitress placed the leatherette check folder on the table. Each of the women dropped money into the folder.

  “Time to discuss the book,” Terrie said, holding up Dreams of Joy.

  “By the way, what kind of a car does your plumber drive, or does he just drive the company truck?” Meredith asked.

  “Let’s do the book,” Alex said.

  “Answer Meredith first,” Terrie said. “What we drive is a reflection of who we are. It’s how we choose to navigate the planet.”

  “Please.” Meredith rolled her eyes. “You’re into that save-the-planet shit because you drive a crappy Toyota.”

  “I could afford a Mercedes like you or a Jag like Judi.” Terrie folded her arms across her chest. “But I know what’s real.”

  “I loved the book.” Liz tried to steer the group back to Dreams of Joy.

  Meredith pursed her lips as only she could, demonstrating her utter revulsion. “Why would the main character, Joy, ever have left Los Angeles, especially during the reign of Mao? And then why would she marry that disgusting peasant and choose to live in squalor?”

  “A dream,” Alex said wistfully. “Remember when we were young and optimistic?”

  “I, for one, was never optimistic enough to consider poverty,” Meredith said.

  “I’d have chosen love over money every day of the week,” Terrie said.

  “That’s obvious,” Meredith said. “And could you believe during the famine, Joy’s husband was actually going to boil his baby girl for food?”

  “I couldn’t imagine a parent harming his child,” Terrie said.

  “No, they traded children and boiled each other’s daughters,” Liz corrected.

  Alex rubbed her wrist. No one in the group, not even Liz, knew about the scar on her right wrist or how she definitely could imagine a parent harming a child.

  Meredith reached for her purse.

  Alex put out her hand. “Please don’t forget. You said you’d give me your opinion on the agreement Gabe’s attorney drafted. Gabe wants it signed tonight when he picks up the boys, and your Mr. Dorset hasn’t returned my calls.”

  “Dorset will definitely come through.” Meredith pulled out a lipstick and a black velvet pouch. She took a silver Brighton mirror out of the pouch, checked her face, and looked toward the bar.

  “Meredith, I’m over here,” Alex said.

  “I know, but look at that silver fox.” Meredith smiled at a man at the bar. Her cell phone rang. “Okay, I’ll be right there,” she promised the person at the other end of the connection. “I have to get to the office,” she told Alex. “It’s a huge real estate acquisition.”

  “Congratulations.” Alex feigned a smile.

  “I’ll review the agreement.” Meredith gave Alex an air kiss. “Don’t let Gabe bully you.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Alex rushed back to the office, saw six patients, and then picked Jon up from his nursery school. At home, she paced, waiting for a call from her attorney. She jumped when the doorbell rang, thinking it was Gabe arriving way before he was supposed to pick up the boys. But it was Ryan, their next-door neighbor. He’d come over to ask Jon to go to his house and play with a new Batman toy he’d gotten for his birthday. After Jon followed Ryan next door, Alex grabbed a pile of clothes from the dryer.

  The phone rang. While holding a stack of laundry, Alex put the phone to her ear.

  It was Judi. “Sorry I missed the meeting, but my mom was rushed to the hospital, and cell phones don’t work
in the ICU.”

  “Is there anything I can do?” Alex asked.

  “Thanks, but everything is under control now,” Judi said.

  “What happened?” Alex asked.

  Judi started to describe her mother’s heart attack.

  Alex’s call waiting beeped.

  “I’ve got to take this call,” she told Judi and dumped the laundry onto the couch.

  It was Meredith. “Don’t sign until we talk.”

  “Why?” Alex asked.

  “The part about the children,” Meredith said.

  The call waiting beeped again.

  Alex looked at the phone number. “Meredith, that’s my attorney. I’ll call you back.”

  She grabbed a pencil and paper to write down the addendums or exclusions she expected from Dorset. Phone in hand, she plopped down onto the couch beside the pile of laundry.

  Dorset cleared his throat. “You can’t sign this piece of shit your husband’s attorney drafted.”

  “My husband, um, I mean former, said if I didn’t sign and you proceed with an investigation of his practice and subpoena his financial records, then he wouldn’t make partner. He’s up for partnership this year, but they’ll vote him out if there are any problems.”

  “Why do you care?”

  “If he got voted out, then he wouldn’t be able to pay me anything.”

  “You wanna bet on that one?” Dorset said.

  “No,” Alex said. “He’s promised to take care of me and the boys, but he said he could only do that if there was no investigation of the practice.”

  “I can draft a whole new agreement that’ll get you what you deserve.”

  “What if he doesn’t agree?” she asked, wondering how she could make Dorset understand. There had been hospital gossip about how one of the most successful physicians at Brea Presbyterian Hospital had diverted funds to his associates right before his divorce, and his former wife had gotten nothing. She couldn’t take a chance. She had to protect the boys, and Gabe was offering to provide a substantial child support payment each month.

  Eric and Daniel opened the front door, yelling, “Hi, Mom.”

  Alex covered the phone. “Oatmeal cookies in the kitchen. Take one, and go next door to Ryan’s to get Jon.”

  While Eric trotted into the kitchen, Daniel stopped to kiss her cheek.

  Dorset said, “Your husband’s a cardiologist, big practice. You were married fifteen years, so you’re entitled to half the practice, not just the house and this measly support for you for one year.” He took a breath. “Although the support for the kids is decent, you’re entitled to more than one year of alimony after such a long marriage.”

  Eric marched back into the den, munching on a cookie. “Why do I have to go get Jon? I wanna play on my computer.”

  Alex cupped her hand over the phone. “Your dad’s picking you up in fifteen minutes. Get Jon.”

  As the boys closed the door, she heard Dorset ask, “Are you listening?”

  “Yes. Actually, we just had our twentieth anniversary.”

  “Happy anniversary,” Dorset said, sarcastically. “You can’t sign this. We have to meet and draft a new document.”

  “This one gives me what I want—the house and plenty of support for the kids.”

  “Until he takes them.”

  She put down the pen and paper, fingers fumbling. “The boys would never leave me.”

  “The agreement states that each child can choose with whom he wants to live when he reaches the age of thirteen,” Dorset said.

  “Gabe hypothetically picked age thirteen, but he knows the boys have to stay with me.”

  “That’s what you think,” Dorset said. “There’s gotta be a motive behind this thirteen thing. It isn’t standard verbiage.”

  “Eric is thirteen, but …” Alex said, but she knew Gabe would never separate the kids. He’d always had the children’s best interests at heart. But, she reminded herself, she’d been thinking about the Gabe she’d known for twenty-five years, not the man he’d morphed into, and definitely not the one she no longer knew or trusted. Alex felt the phone slip in her damp hand. She gripped it more tightly.

  Dorset asked, “You’re a doctor too, right?”

  “I’m a chiropractor.”

  “You know what Munchausen syndrome is?”

  “Of course. So what?” She put the phone on speaker mode so she could finish folding the laundry.

  “I do lots of child custody cases,” Dorset said.

  “This isn’t a custody case,” she said, trying to pry some bubble gum off of Jon’s sock before putting it into his backpack.

  “Yet,” he said. “The parents—in these cases usually the mothers—harm the kids, put their fingers into their vaginas and break their hymens, put cigarette burns on ’em, all kinds of crap. Then the mothers take the kids to the emergency room, and doctors and nurses give the mothers the attention they crave.”

  “Are you accusing me?” The hairs on her arms bristled.

  “I’m trying to shock some sense into you.” He paused. “We ask the kids, ‘What did Mommy do to you?’ They say, ‘Mommy didn’t do it. It was an accident.’”

  Alex leaned her face against the warm folded laundry. Is Dorset warning me about something he learned from Gabe’s attorney? He couldn’t possibly think Jon’s burns were “for purpose,” like Jon had told her Gabe had said.

  As she stuffed the boys’ clothes into their backpacks, her stomach churned. “Please get to the corrections.”

  “I hope you and your husband had a fantastic sex life,” Dorset growled.

  “Why are you talking about sex?”

  “He’s screwing you royally, and you’re saying, ‘I’ve got to give him what he wants so he won’t be angry with me.’ Same as those kids who think, ‘if I tell on Mommy, she’ll hurt me more next time, but if I keep quiet, then maybe she’ll be nice to me.’”

  “This isn’t anything like that. I’m getting what I want.” Alex knew only too well about “telling on Mommy.” Her entire childhood was spent in fear of telling on her mother. Alex knew if she ever told her father what her mother did to her, there’d be horrific consequences—for her.

  Jon ran into the house behind the two older boys and jumped onto her lap, his legs obviously no longer painful.

  “We can’t let you sign this. There are too many corrections. We have to write up a whole new agreement.”

  “Mr. Dorset, you keep saying that. I know attorneys often create an adversarial situation to make money. Gabe offered to pay my legal fees if I use his attorney.”

  “Not ethical,” Dorset said. “And, that’d be the most expensive two grand you ever saved. If you won’t listen to me, at least talk to someone else.”

  “My girlfriend, Meredith Blackstone, the attorney who referred me to you, was supposed to go over the papers with me at lunch today, but she didn’t have time. She called, but your call came in just as she was going to discuss it.”

  “I’m faxing a substitution of attorney. Fax it back now.”

  “You’re withdrawing?” she asked, despair careened through her. She hugged Jon tighter. “Can’t we just fix a few things?”

  “I can’t represent you if you’re thinking about signing this. You’ll turn around and sue us. Any judge would say we couldn’t have given you appropriate counsel if we allowed you to sign this.”

  She knew any other attorney would have to start from the beginning, and that would be too expensive. Also, Meredith had said Dorset was the best. She wondered whether Dorset could be right about Gabe and started to cry.

  Jon touched her face. “It’s okay, Mommy.”

  She kissed his pudgy baby fingers, took the phone off speaker mode, and put it to her ear.

  “Are you listening to me?” Dorset demanded. “He’ll screw you
and take the boys away.”

  “Never!” Alex yelled. That was it. Dorset was just threatening. She’d heard about an attorney who’d represented one of the physicians and charged more than a hundred thousand dollars for the divorce. There was no way she could get that kind of money. She decided Dorset had to be bluffing because Gabe would never take the children away from her. She was a good mother. “Fax me your withdrawal.”

  “I’m faxing it now.” He hung up.

  She went to the fax machine and waited for the printout. Then she grabbed a pen and signed.

  Before she could collect herself, the doorbell rang.

  CHAPTER 12

  Gabriel Rose strode into the house as though it were still his. He pecked her on the forehead, a gesture void of love and full of loss. She pulled back.

  Jon ran to Gabe and wrapped his arms around his father’s legs. “Daddy, I’m still hurting.”

  “Tonight, I’ll change the bandages, and you’ll be fine.” Gabe swooped his son up and kissed him.

  Eric asked, “How come you didn’t honk for us?”

  “I have to talk to your mother,” Gabe said. Then he leaned over the entry table and sifted through the mail.

  Daniel looked at Alex before going over and hugging Gabe. She knew Daniel had always tried to spare her. At football games, if he stood near Gabe for a while, he’d walk over and put his arm around her for the same amount of time. He seemed to parcel out his attention as though his parents were on a perfectly balanced seesaw, and he didn’t want to upset either one.

  Gabe said, “Boys, go upstairs. I said, ‘I need to talk to your mother.’ It will only take five minutes. Then your mother and I will be finished.”

  The boys turned and scurried upstairs.

  Alex stared at Gabe. Finished in five minutes? After twenty years of marriage?

  Sending her a sideways glance, he said, “You look good.”

  “Thanks,” she said, hating him for complimenting her while discounting their lives, the family they’d created, everything that was important to her.

  Without separating his lips, he smiled, took a document from the breast pocket of his navy blazer, and handed it to her. “I brought the original.”