Sex Happens

by Carol Soloway

  “No hot water,” she said, knowing there was no possibility of asking the hotel clerk to send someone to fix it. She looked at Frank standing beside the bed near the wall and asked, “Is it okay if I keep the overhead light on and read?”

  “It’s fine,” he said, tugging at the collar of his pale-blue pajamas. “Light never bothered me when my wife would read until all hours of the night. But that was before she …”

  “What happened to her?” Alex moved her fingers across her pearl pendant.

  “Left me twenty-two years ago.”

  “How long did it take to get over it?” Alex asked with an intimacy fostered by the hour, the small hotel room, or perhaps the close proximity of the two single beds.

  “Wasted my life,” he whispered. “Never got over the hate, the anger. It was like I kept taking poison, hoping she’d die.”

  Alex stared at him like one used to do with a Polaroid photo, waiting for it to develop, but he didn’t say another word.

  Since there were no lamps in the room, she decided it would be rude to keep the overhead light on. “I’ll just go to sleep. Good night, and thanks for letting me share the room.”

  “Good night,” he said.

  She shut off the overhead light, crawled into bed, and thought about the magical intimacy within hotel rooms. She recalled the Bellagio Hotel with its pristine white feather comforter and lavender-scented pillows. That hotel room was where she had had everything and then nothing. Then she thought of this seedy hotel room and Frank’s words. Determined there would only be one wasted life in this room, she decided it was time to silence her memory ghosts. She was no longer going to carry the poison from Gabe into her future. No man, not even Gabriel Rose, was going to destroy her life.

  ◆◆◆

  On the plane ride back, David took a seat next to her.

  “I could blackmail you,” David teased.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked.

  “I know who you slept with last night,” he said.

  “Promise you won’t tell my husband.” Alex laughed. She wondered whether she should tell David she was kidding about being married, so she turned the conversation to the accommodations: “There was no hot water in the shower, but the room was fine.”

  “The beach was freezing. You were smart to have shared the room with Frank.”

  “It was nice of him to have offered to share his room,” she said.

  “Frank’s a good man,” David said. “I knew you’d be safe.”

  “Safe?” she repeated. “Why would you even think about that?”

  “You’re a woman, and I …"

  “Yes?” she said, giving him permission to proceed.

  “A man in a room with such a beautiful woman, I don’t know if I’d be able to be a gentleman.”

  Beautiful. He called me beautiful. She smiled. “He wasn’t such a gentleman when I attacked him.”

  “Lucky guy,” he said. “But I don’t know if I would have waited for you to make the first move in that situation.”

  “Are you implying that you’re not a gentleman?”

  “Find out for yourself.” He winked.

  Her heart pounded. She felt that elevator feeling. There were flutters, good flutters. She remembered when Gabe had challenged her to find out for herself whether sex was that different with someone else—and she did. Sex definitely was different with Luke. She wondered what it would be like with David, then stopped herself. Her life was already too complicated with the custody battle.

  “A peso for your thoughts,” David said.

  “Aren’t they worth more than that?”

  “Depends on what you’re thinking.” He laughed. “Seriously, I didn’t mean to imply anything. I guess being a gynecologist, I see so much, and—”

  “I bet you do.” She smiled.

  “No, I mean men not treating women appropriately,” he said. “Have you heard about Women’s Options?”

  “No, what’s that?”

  He explained that Women’s Options was a charitable organization that sponsors women who are unable to care for themselves and their children for one reason or another. He told her Women’s Options also helps train women for the workplace.

  “Do you give the women free gynecological care?” she asked, assuming that was his role in the organization.

  "Well, of course, but I’m one of the founders, so I also have the fundraising and administrative responsibilities."

  “How’d you get into that?” she asked.

  “I saw a need,” he said. “I wish I could do more, but my practice is so busy.” He paused. “I hate to leave my daughter at night. She needs me, and I—”

  She was going to ask about his daughter, but one of the dental hygienists in the front row turned around and said, “David, your group helped one of our patients. She came in with three broken teeth and refused to tell us how she fractured them. Finally, she told us her husband had beaten her, and she was so afraid. We called your group, and they took her right in.”

  “I remember her,” David said. “What ever happened to her?”

  “She moved to Ohio,” the dental hygienist said. “We lost contact with her, but she sent us a Christmas card thanking us for referring her to Women’s Options."

  The dental hygienist and David talked about the organization.

  “Helping one woman is wonderful, but it’s not enough,” David said. “Men think they have a right to treat women like that. It sickens me.”

  Alex listened to David talk with such passion. He appeared so caring, concerned.

  She thought about Sofia, the little girl with the fractured arm and sad face. She wondered whether the little girl trusted her dad as much as Alex had trusted hers. Then she recalled the day she’d discovered her dad’s secret: how he hadn’t chosen love.

  As she sat in the den watching the rain-spattered window, her father playfully teased, “Too old for cartoons and too young for boys, huh?”

  She’d just turned twelve and wanted to tell him how her mother would torment her and her sister during the day when he was gone, but she didn’t. She was too afraid of her mother’s vengeance.

  Her father tapped her shoulder. “Alexandra, I’ve got a surprise for you if you come with me.”

  Eager for the surprise and time alone with her dad, she followed him downstairs to the basement. They passed her mother’s old Nancy Drew books in the wrought-iron bookcase, her record collection—mostly Elvis—and the old Victrola with the small spindle for the 78s and the larger holder for the 45s.

  Passing the leather-bound Encyclopedia Britannica in the wooden shelves, purchased from the door-to-door salesman who guaranteed it would ensure the children’s admittance to the colleges of their choice, her dad walked farther back in the basement.

  As she followed him, lightning cracked and the rain hammered the tiny slats of the basement windows. Her dad turned on the lights. Then he opened the door to the closet opposite the pantry. He pulled out three large boxes, taped up and marked “Sally 1,” “Sally 2,” and “Sally 3.” Alex knew her father had a sister named Sally who’d died, but her father never talked about her.

  Her dad opened the first box. “This isn’t the one.”

  Alex glanced into the box and saw hardbound books with titles that looked intriguing: The Good Earth, How Babies Are Born, and The Fountainhead. Each book smelled like the library. “May I take one?” she asked, picking up The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand.

  “Sure, but that’s not why I brought you down here.” He opened the next box and withdrew a wooden cigar case filled with miniature figurines. He unwrapped a three-inch replica of a whimsical cow in black-and-white milky glass holding a bouquet of flowers. Then he unwrapped a miniature telephone that actually dialed, a glass slipper, and two-inch wooden dogs of all breeds. All the figurines were perfect. />
  “Where’d you get these?” Alex asked. Although she sensed the collection was something to be treasured, she cared more about the box of books.

  He looked sad, nostalgic. “They were my sister’s. I practically raised her, and she died so young. She would have wanted you to have them, but they’re so fragile I was afraid you’d break them. You’re old enough now.”

  “I’ll be careful with them.” She kissed her dad and went upstairs, carrying the box of figurines and the book.

  That night, right after dinner, she went to her bedroom and started to read The Fountainhead. As she turned to page forty-two, a picture fell onto the floor. She picked up the black-and-white photograph of two handsome men. One of them she immediately recognized as her dad, and she wondered if the other man might have been her Aunt Sally’s husband. Studying the faces, she felt a sudden sense of panic. The men looked at each other in a very odd way.

  Walking into the den to ask her father about the photo, she distractedly turned the picture over. On the back, she found a note addressed to her dad:

  Dear Hal,

  I’m so sorry, but I just couldn’t attend your wedding. So, I’ve asked Sally to give you this picture of us when we thought our love would continue through eternity. Even though you’ve decided you can’t live the life we planned, I’ll always love you.

  Yours forever,

  Robert

  She stuffed the picture back into the book and slammed it shut just as her father looked away from the television. “What is it, Alexandra?” he asked.

  “Nothing.” She clutched the book to her chest and hurried back to her bedroom, her heart racing.

  Once she’d unlocked the mystery of her father, her world had changed and become a place where mothers were incapable of love and fathers lived a lie.

  CHAPTER 28

  As their plane landed at Orange County Airport, David gently patted her shoulder and whispered, “Sleeping Beauty, you can wake up now.”

  Alex smiled up at him.

  “Will I see you next time?” David asked.

  “Sure,” Alex agreed.

  They deplaned, and while they waited for the pilot to unload their bags, David told her a joke. She laughed. Then she collected her backpack and walked to the building.

  Luke was standing there, hands parked on his hips.

  “Hi,” she called to him. “I thought you were going to wait for me to call before coming to the airport.”

  “That’s a fine greeting,” Luke said sarcastically.

  “I’m beat.” Alex waved toward the group. “We worked our butts off.”

  Luke gestured toward David. “Did you work with him?”

  “No,” Alex said, annoyed at Luke’s suspicion.

  He took her backpack. As they walked to the parking lot, he asked, “What about at night? What did you do?”

  “We sat around the beach and then went to our rooms,” she said. There was no need to tell him about sharing a room with a man. He’d never understand that nothing had happened.

  He pulled her to him for a hug. Then he tossed her backpack into the truck, helped her into her seat, and went around to the driver’s side.

  Alex glanced at the backseat and saw a rifle nestled between the seats. “What’s that doing there?”

  He laughed, seemingly amused by the alarm in her voice. “Went hunting this morning. Just had time to put the dogs in their run and take a shower. I forgot to put the gun back in the safe.”

  “You killed something?” she asked.

  “That’s the goal of hunting, and I have a surprise for you. My number’s been drawn for the annual deer hunt in Utah!”

  “Luke, are there actually so many people who want to hunt deer they have a drawing?”

  “Yep, and they picked my number and two of my hunting buddies’ numbers.” He smiled at her. “And I’d like you to join us.”

  While the fishing was tolerable, she knew hunting wasn’t something she could handle. She shook her head and told him, “Hunting’s definitely not my thing.”

  He took his right hand off the steering wheel and reached for her hand. “We’ll spend the entire weekend together.”

  “I have the boys every Saturday, and I’m going to start with the forensic psychologist on Fridays.” She wasn’t sure a weekend with Luke would resolve anything, especially not a weekend involving a deer hunt.

  A menacing look crossed his face. “It’s that guy in the airport. I saw the way you and he were laughing together.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  Abruptly, he released her hand, cut the wheel, and turned into her driveway. He got out of the truck and slammed the door. As she climbed out of the truck, he grabbed her backpack and they walked to her front door.

  “I’m tired,” she said. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  “I want to talk now.” He stood in the doorway, hands folded across his chest. “Alex, something’s going on. You know, I don’t even have to be around you, and I can feel you.”

  Unlocking the door, she assured him, “Nothing is going on.”

  “I’m coming in to talk,” he insisted.

  “Only for a few minutes. I need to get ready for work tomorrow.”

  He followed her into the house, dropped her backpack just inside the front door, and walked into the den. “Could you fix me a drink?”

  “Just one,” she said and went into the kitchen. She poured a glass of wine for herself and a scotch and soda for him. Then she carried the drinks into the den and sat down on the couch.

  “I have an idea that’ll work,” he said.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Alex, as I recall, you invited me to a wedding, right?”

  “Yes, Judi’s in the First Friday Book Club, and her daughter’s getting married.” Alex said and picked pieces of cork out of her wine. Uncertain about whether or not she wanted him to accompany her to a wedding where Gabe would be, she said, “I’ll go alone.”

  “Now I’m not good enough for your fancy friends?”

  “You’re overreacting.” She kept her tone mild, fearful of agitating him. There was a gun in his truck.

  “I don’t want you going alone,” he said, an edge to his voice. “And why do you have to go, anyway?”

  “I told you, Judi’s in my book club, and my closest friends will be there.” Then, more to herself than him, she added, “And Gabe will be there because Judi’s husband works with him.”

  “Since when did Gabe become your best friend?” He shook his head and then laughed. “You two have a damn strange relationship.”

  “You’re right, we do, but then divorce makes for a damn strange relationship.” She gave him a probing look. “You probably don’t know about divorce.”

  “What are you saying?” Anger overtook his face, contorting it to near ugliness.

  “Luke, for all I know, you’re still married.”

  “That’s it.” As though in slow motion, his glass moved from his hand through the room until it hit the wall, the crash resounding.

  Staring at the scotch-and-soda-splattered wall, she froze in shock. A man who would hurl a glass at a wall was terrifying. As a child, she’d learned it was better to keep quiet than to provoke, and she knew she could get hurt if she said the wrong thing.

  “Why would you think I’m married?” he demanded.

  She didn’t say anything.

  “Tell me,” he insisted.

  She looked at him.

  He grabbed her shoulder and shook it. “Talk.”

  Fear short-circuited her brain. She couldn’t think.

  His fingers dug into her shoulder.

  She looked at the pieces of glass glistening on the floor, and strength emerged from deep within. She decided it was time to stand up for herself. Although she’d been blindsided by Gabe�
��s betrayal, she wasn’t going to let Luke do the same. Without wavering, she said, “This isn’t the relationship I want. You never stay over, and you’ve never introduced me to your friends, your family, or anyone in your life.”

  “My work truck is only insured when it’s either parked at the office or my house or when I’m en route to a customer’s house.” He released her shoulder and clenched his fist.

  “What about the weekends?” she asked.

  “I’m on the ocean too early.” His amber eyes darted back and forth like a cornered animal. “I’ll tell you the truth.”

  “The truth?” She hated that word. Her stomach churned. She knew about the truth all too well. In Gabe’s Mercedes on the return trip from Las Vegas, his truth had destroyed the family. The truth was like an airbag: once deployed, everything changes, and there’s no going back.

  She bent down and picked up a few pieces of fractured glass, careful not to cut her trembling fingers.

  “I’ll do that.” Luke leaned down beside her and took the glass from her hand.

  “Tell me your truth and then get out,” she said.

  He explained how Cherie, his twenty-year-old daughter, wasn’t right: “Ever since her mother and I got a divorce, Cherie gets upset if she suspects I’ve been with another woman. Since she lives with me, she gets agitated whenever I come home late. And, if I didn’t come home, she’d go ballistic.”

  “At twenty?” Alex asked. Then she remembered the danger of challenging someone who was volatile. After seeing Luke fling the glass at the wall, she was convinced his anger could cause great harm. There was something familiar, although unsettling, about his volatility.

  “Alex, let me explain. Up until now, my daughter hasn’t been able to take care of herself. She was finally at the point where she was going to work. Then her sister moved in, as you know. She’d had her own room up until then, and she isn’t fond of sharing a room with her sister.”

  “If you’re really divorced, why would your daughter get angry about you being with another woman?” Embracing the strength she felt within her, she said, “We’re done, Luke.”

  “There’s more.” He looked at her beseechingly. “Several months ago, actually a month before we started dating, I got custody of my oldest daughter’s thirteen-year-old son, Mark. Before she died, my daughter made me my grandson’s legal guardian.”