Sick Day

by Morgan Parker

  I kissed her again and again and again, until she turned her lips to mine and rotated her body so that she lay underneath my weight on the spongy grass. The rain pelted my back as we made out like two rabid teenagers whose parents wouldn’t lend them their cars so they could screw in the dry privacy of a backseat.

  When I pulled back from Hope’s reciprocated kisses, I realized that I was pinning her wrists above her head, and she had wrapped her legs around my waist.

  “Look at us,” I said, and we both burst into crazy laughter.

  “I missed you, Cameron,” she panted. “Shit.”

  “Hope, what are you doing here?”

  She sighed, turning her face toward the swimming pool window and aiming her stare on the activity inside like it offered the answer to the meaning of life.

  “Not this.”

  } i {

  Chapter 19

  Returning to the townhouse, drenched and barefoot, I didn’t exactly know what to expect from Riley. I stood on the front porch for a few moments, wondering for a second if Riley had managed to get off before the timer buzzed on the oven, then turned the doorknob and stepped inside. I braced myself for the worst, but was surprised when she stepped into the foyer, wearing a bathrobe and carrying a glass of wine. She simply looked me up and down with a questioning look on her face.

  “Where the fuck were you?” she asked with a hiss, opening her bathrobe just enough to reveal that she wore nothing underneath. For the first time in forever, the sight of Riley’s naked body did nothing to arouse me. Normally, her beauty alone had an insta-hard-on effect that lasted hours. Not tonight.

  I chuckled and tried to step past her, but she stopped me.

  “So? Where were you, Cam?” She bit her fingernail.

  “In the basement,” I lied. “Where the fuck does it look like I was?”

  My tone offended her enough that she stepped back and tightened the robe. I moved into the kitchen for some food because that was what a normal person would do.

  “How was the ham?” I asked.

  “It was a roasted chicken,” Riley answered. “And I’m going to bed.”

  “Goodnight,” I breathed once she was gone, then found the roasted chicken and dumped a bit onto my plate. How could I have forgotten that it was chicken? Damn, seeing Hope had seriously messed with my head.

  I walked to the table with my plate. Seeing as tonight had been the first time that I spent time with Hope in roughly seven years, it made sense why I was a little disoriented, confused, whatever. The loss of appetite surprised me, though, as I toyed with my dinner—two thin slices off the breast along with a spoonful of vegetables—and wondered why I had dumped so much on my plate. I wasn’t hungry. At all.

  Yet upstairs, Riley was probably waiting for me to come and kiss her ass, apologize for the tone and the words and sarcasm. Then start sucking on her toes while holding her ankle with one hand and massaging her clit with the other, exactly what she had been expecting before dinner.

  I moved my eyes from the plate to the stairwell leading to that clit-massage, then back to the plate. This wasn’t the type of decision that should confuse someone who wasn’t even married yet, but I couldn’t decide whether I wanted the chicken or my fiancée’s nipples in my mouth.

  I settled on the chicken. It was just a little easier that way.

  } i {

  Chapter 20

  The first time I told Gordo about Hope was that Monday morning after dry humping her on the grass outside the community center in the pouring rain. Both Gordo and I had great jobs at Harris—he as an Executive VP, me as a Senior Manager. We had no idea what awaited us in the coming week. So in the most general terms, we absolutely loved life at this bank. A lot.

  That Monday morning, I stopped at Gordo’s office en route to mine, and he knew right away that something fantastic had happened.

  “No fucking way,” he said, stepping away from the mini-putting green and dropping onto his leather sofa overlooking the Chicago River. “You tried anal, didn’t you? Jeez, man, what did you think?” He made a fucking motion with his hips and wiggled his eyebrows at me.

  “It wasn’t anal,” I said, the smile melting off my face courtesy of the bile rising up my throat. “That’s fucking gross this early in the morning; why would you think that? Of all things, Gordo…”

  Laughing, Gordon completely ignored the severity of my mood and sat straighter on the sofa. Keeping his back rigid, he ran his hands down the sides of his mouth. “This looks serious, Cam.”

  I nodded.

  “Are you leaving Harris? You know there’s nothing better out there right now. These banks are just getting back into hiring. And even then…”

  I shook my head, grinning at the ridiculousness of his suggestion. “No, nothing like that. I can’t leave this job. You know that. I love this place.”

  “Then what is it?” he asked. “If it’s not anal and it’s not the career, then I fucking give up.”

  Deep breath. “Well, when I was high school, I promised this girl that we’d be together forever.”

  Gordon howled, clapping his hands. “Are you serious? This is turning out to be a pretty awesome Monday! Let me guess, you gave this girl a promise ring, didn’t you?” He laughed some more.

  “Well, we obviously didn’t end up together. Because I hooked up with Riley after that first semester at Northwestern.”

  He became serious again at the mention of my fiancée. “Yeah, Riley’s got that kind of body, that I can-fuck-this-forever kind of body, and the blonde hair of fucking wet dreams.” He pulled his attention from whatever semi-pornographic images of my fiancée had just occupied his mind and looked at my face instead. “I’d say things turned out okay for you, Cam.”

  I winced.

  “Was that offside? I mean, I just meant to say that Riley’s hot, it’s not exactly a crime to fall for the pretty girl.”

  I shrugged. “Wasn’t offside, Gordo. But a promise was a promise, and instead of taking her calls or answering her emails, I just disappeared.”

  He chuckled again. “You know how many guys make high-school promises?”

  “This was a pretty big promise,” I said, shrugging and wincing at the same time.

  He just shook his head. “I can’t tell you how many times I promised to marry girls at parties, just for a blow job. And that was just last weekend!” He frowned when my eyes widened. “Kidding about last weekend, by the way. So, why are you thinking about this bullshit on a Monday morning anyway? Don’t you have a big presentation to the C-team on how we’re going to improve retail-client profitability?”

  I took another deep breath and stared down at the putting green and the half-dozen balls assembled at the cup. “Because this girl showed up on Friday. No warning or anything. She just showed up, and I haven’t stopped thinking about her since.” When I raised my attention to Gordon’s eyes, I told him what was really troubling me. “Now I don’t know if I should be marrying Riley next month.”

  } i {

  Chapter 21

  I worked late every night that week, lying to Riley about some made-up client-behavior reports because I just couldn’t stop thinking about Hope. And being at home made me antsy in an ADHD way.

  Gordon knew it, too. Each night before he left at seven, he stopped at my office, leaning on the doorframe with his laptop bag hanging off his shoulder. “Is this distraction supposed to show up tonight?” he asked. It was the same question he had been asking since Monday. Even tonight, one week since last Friday’s run-in with Hope, it was the same thing.

  “Yes,” I answered with a convincing nod, but Gordo could somehow tell that I was lying.

  “Really? She told you she would show up? Every day this week, or just tonight?”

  “She’ll show up,” I told him, not really in a mood to play his games. “And when she does, I don’t know how it will turn out.”

  Shaking his head, he let out a deep sigh. “Crazy week we’ve had, huh? Monday, you were talking ab
out promises you made to some girl in high school. Now we’re sitting here wondering about the promises our bosses have made to us about the security of our jobs. Well, that’s what the rest of us on the floor are wondering about. And you’re up here on a Friday night, thinking about the first girl you ever fucked.”

  “She wasn’t the first. But it was a promise, Gordo. Can we drop it?”

  He waved at the emptiness behind him. “How many times have we been promised safety and security, dude? You know, we survived that financial crisis, we fought for our fucking lives, raping and pillaging at every fucking turn because of a promise. So do you really want to talk about what that word means? I’ve got two kids and two nannies at home; I rely on promises to get me from week to week, to keep my wife smiling and those kids happy.”

  I shook my head. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean. It’s that happiness you’re talking about. Hope is my promise, and I was hers. We fit together so well.”

  Either he didn’t hear me or he didn’t care to listen. Gordon just kept talking like I hadn’t said anything. “But just like this bullshit with Harris head office, Cam, what the fuck happened? Just like I’ve been sitting in my office since that meeting Wednesday morning, wondering why they’ve suddenly changed their minds about the great work all of us do on this floor. I have to wonder why you didn’t honor your promise to this Hope girl. Why did you disappear in the first place? I mean, all week you’ve been bitching and moaning about how much you miss her, and now you’re contemplating bailing on your wedding to Riley, which is a matrimonial promise, isn’t it?”

  I had no response for him as he pushed away from the doorframe, shaking his head at me.

  “Just like these cocksuckers broke their promise to me about how safe and secure we all are, you broke yours to this girl.” He let that sink in, and then added, “You broke your promise to Hope, and there was a reason for that. Don’t forget it before you go and ruin the rest of your life, and Riley’s life, on something that was never meant to be.”

  He walked away, but before he was completely out of sight, I called after him. “Hey, Gordo!”

  “Go home to your fiancée, Cam!” he yelled back from somewhere down the hall.

  “Have a good weekend,” I mumbled, turning to my computer and powering down.

  It was time to leave, time to find Riley and forget about this craziness of the past week. I decided on picking up flowers, some salts for the tub, and that Canadian wine we discovered a few weeks ago. Maybe she could slip back into that bathrobe, too. And this time, I wouldn’t be putting anything in the oven. I’d be fucking her instead.

  } i {

  Chapter 22

  I made it halfway through the Harris Building lobby when I noticed the tall brunette in the dark corner next to the revolving doors, watching me. Hope. I knew it from her presence alone; I didn’t have to see her face or the color of her hair or smell her perfume or coconut shampoo to know; I could tell because I knew how I felt whenever she was near.

  “Working late?” she asked, stepping toward me. “I was afraid your security guard was going to kick me out.”

  The stupid-big smile that twisted onto my face crushed my determination from earlier. Riley? Salts for the tub? Wine and fucking to the point where we have to change the sheets before bed?

  Wait, Riley who?

  “So what’s her name, Cameron?” Hope asked as she pushed into the revolving doors, but they refused to budge. She pushed harder, and I just watched, holding back laughter. Awkward.

  “They lock the doors after hours,” I informed her. “You can push as hard as you want, but they won’t budge.”

  She stepped back into the lobby, smirking and shaking her head at me. She wasn’t really embarrassed, but if anyone else had seen her, I knew she would have blushed. “Goob! Were you going to let me make an idiot of myself all night?”

  “No, it didn’t take more than a few seconds for you to do that all on your own. So how long have you been waiting for me?”

  “Since four-thirty. I didn’t know what time you left for the day, so I stood there and watched, waiting for you. Now I have to pee.”

  I chuckled. “I didn’t think you believed in fighting for love. This is a new side to you.”

  She punched me in the shoulder, hard. “What’s your wife’s name already?”

  “Riley,” I answered, rubbing my shoulder. “And she’s just my fiancée. At least until next month when we’re supposed to get married in Wisconsin.”

  Now it was Hope’s turn to chuckle. “I didn’t know you believed in marriage. This is a new side to you, Cameron.”

  “I…uh…” I brushed a hand through my hair, remembering how I had been questioning the marriage thing all week since seeing Hope. If Riley’s and my relationship was based on love—the real and tangible kind that keeps you smiling every morning when you wake up next to that person, the kind that allows you to conceive and raise children in the best environment possible—should Hope have had such a profound impact when we were this close to my wedding day? Now I wondered whether marrying Riley was the right thing to do.

  “I’ve never been to Chicago,” she said. “Deep dish pizza?”

  I felt a little dizzy; she seemed to be coming at me from a million different angles. “Yes. We can eat. Sure.”

  I used my access card to release the lock on the exit door. The warm air and city sounds washed over us the moment we stepped outside. I took a deep breath, then glanced over at Hope again, just to make sure this was real, not some dream or fantasy. I couldn’t believe she was here. Again.

  “What are you doing in Chicago, anyway?” I had to ask.

  She gave me a threatening glare, then shook her head. “I’m in the same boat as you.”

  “Facing certain unemployment?”

  “Huh?” She glared at me sideways.

  “Nevermind.” I turned north on Wells. “It’s a bit of a hike to Gino’s East, but you’ll love it. How long are you in Chicago?”

  I felt her hand slip into mine, but I pulled away. Riley knew a lot of people in Chicago; I didn’t want her to hear rumors from someone else when we had so little time between now and our wedding day. I couldn’t crush her like that. But in the process of protecting Riley’s heart, I noticed that a part of Hope’s crumbled away.

  She changed the subject again. “I have to pee. How far is this place?”

  “Fifteen minutes if you can hold it that long.”

  We walked in silence for a few blocks. At Ohio, Hope pointed toward the golden arches a city block to the east, the original McDonald’s. “Holy shit!”

  “We’re real close, unless you’re going to piss your pants.”

  “Shut up and keep walking,” she said, poking me in the kidneys to keep my feet going. “I’m only here for a few more nights.”

  “That’s too bad.” Like if my heart just stopped beating.

  “Why’s that, Cameron?” she snapped. “Were you hoping I’d come to your wedding?”

  At Gino’s East, they seated us at a booth, but Hope walked straight to the bathrooms in the back, her legs so tight together that, from behind, she appeared to be walking on one leg. The waiter came, and I ordered our drinks. A Coke for me and an iced tea for Hope—almost like we were still dating before college, still in love, and still blissfully oblivious to the complications that a bullet-proof, five-year promise would have on our relationship.

  What am I doing here?

  When Hope returned, sliding into the booth across from me, I told her what I had done—ordered her an iced tea—and her lips twitched like she might be flirting with the idea of a smile. “I’ve missed you, Cameron.”

  I nodded. “I gathered that from last week’s encounter in the rain.”

  “I know you missed me more.” Her face lit up at the memory.

  Last Friday night, after we finished making out on the grass, we retreated to the nearest bus shelter and talked. I told her where I worked, told her to come find me so we could talk
some more. On Monday, I had expected her to show up, but by today, despite my confidence with Gordon, I hadn’t held much hope that I would ever see her again.

  “Why did you disappear, Cameron? I called, I emailed, and nothing.” She seemed a little hurt about that, and I couldn’t blame her.

  “I met Riley,” I told her, point-blank.

  “She’s pretty,” Hope admitted sadly and quickly; she didn’t seem to want to hear more about Riley right now. “Very pretty.”

  The waiter came with our drinks, and we ordered a small deep-dish pizza.

  I watched Hope pucker her lips around the straw and take a long pull from the glass, her pretty hazel eyes watching me the entire time. “Did you meet her at Northwestern?”

  I nodded. “What about you? Still single?”

  She averted her eyes and shook her head. “I met an older man. He’s a partner at the accounting firm where I did my articling.” Her eyes found mine again. “He takes good care of me, Cameron.”

  “I don’t want to know what his name is,” I admitted, wondering why my chest felt suddenly constricted. I was supposed to be in love with Riley. I shouldn’t have cared about Hope’s romantic life. I should’ve been happy for her. After all, it was me that disappeared. And if she were involved with someone else, I would no longer have to carry all the weight, the guilt that came with breaking our promise.

  “So why did you kiss me the other night?” she asked, clearly trying to steer the conversation in a direction she wanted.

  I groaned. “Let’s take this back a couple of steps, shall we? Why were you stalking me the other night?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Puh-lease, Cameron.”

  “It’s a legitimate question,” I told her, “and I really want to know what you were doing outside my townhouse in the dark. And in the rain!”

  “You kissed me, mister. I didn’t ask you to come running after me, or to tackle me like a fucking rapist in front of your community center.” She shook her head at me, huffing. “And I swear you touched my boob, too. If you’d just let me go, none of this would’ve happened, and you’d be at home right now, making dinner for Riley and playing house.”