“Didn’t you like it?” Wanda asked. “The steak?”
Austin nodded. “I did, but…” He put his other hand to his stomach and whispered, “Butterflies.”
“You too, huh?”
It impressed her that he admitted it. Dirk didn’t discuss uncomfortable feelings, particularly those that hinted at vulnerability. It was an unspoken rule in the house, one she had adopted unconsciously. She hid her feelings from him as much as she could, but he always knew. He’d come sniffing like a badger and root them out, and the fact that he could successfully force her to confess the emotions she had worked so hard to hide made her feel ashamed. Ashamed of normal human feelings that Austin admitted openly.
“WERE,” Dirk thundered. “Not was. ‘Was’ is indicative, but we’re in speculation here. And which mood do we use for speculative constructions?”
He’s very sweet, Wanda thought as he squeezed her hand. I do think he gets me. But he’s—
Austin leaned in and kissed her before she could finish the thought.
—not assertive enough.
Do that again, said her eyes. Harder. Like you mean it.
He did. His tongue inside her mouth was shockingly arousing.
But it’s only because he’s doing it right in front of Dirk, she thought. It’s only because of the danger factor.
He kissed her a third time. This time she put her tongue in his mouth.
My heart’s going to beat right out of my chest, she thought.
She pushed him away.
“The subjunctive!” Dirk announced dramatically, turning at last to face them. “When we speculate, we use the subjunctive mood!”
He paused, annoyed at not having the full attention of his audience.
“Excuse me,” said Wanda. She wiped her mouth and got up to use the bathroom.
“Something wrong with the steaks?” Dirk asked, noticing how little Austin and Wanda had eaten.
“Butterflies,” Austin said.
Dirk spun dramatically on his heel and pressed his face to the window.
“Where?”
24
“This is going better than I could have imagined,” Hannah said, her face bright with hope.
She glided to Trevor, who sat quietly focused on the couch. She knelt and took his face between her hands and kissed his cheek. “You’re doing a brilliant job.” She beamed. “Brilliant.”
She went to the window and looked out. The fog had receded a hundred yards from the edge of the house. New buds had appeared on the rosebush, on the rhododendrons, and the magnolia.
“The fog,” she said brightly. “It has a different quality, doesn’t it? Have you ever seen it so light?”
“Hannah,” said Trevor. The sharpness of his tone told her something was wrong.
“What?” The smile left her face. “What is it?”
“She’s in the bathroom.”
“She’s overwhelmed. I can feel it.”
“I know. I think this is too much for her.”
“What do you…” She trailed off at the scent of smoke drifting in through the window cracks.
“Oh no! Wanda, no!” She banged her fists against the glass. “No, no, no! Now is not the time to numb yourself.”
“Maybe we took it too fast,” Trevor said.
“Wanda, you need to be present. Please don’t do this! Please, Wanda! Please.”
25
She hadn’t planned to. She had gone to the upstairs bathroom in part because she needed to pee, and in part because her own feelings had taken her by surprise and she needed time to compose herself.
The joint was on the counter by the sink. The half-smoked joint streaked with sticky brown resin. She picked it up out of habit and lit it before sitting on the toilet.
Austin Reed, she thought, you are much bolder than I ever gave you credit for.
She blew a thick column of smoke up toward the ceiling fan. Dirk didn’t like the smell lingering in the bathroom.
I didn’t think you could ever turn me on, but you did. She clamped the joint between her lips and pulled a few sheets of paper off the roll. Congrats on that, Austin.
She stood and flushed and took another big hit, and thought, You know, I’m actually embarrassed. She blew the smoke into the exhaust fan. Embarrassed to see myself. To see my own life so clearly. How screwed up it all is. How pathetic and predictable.
Another hit. Big exhale.
And I could tell Austin that. I could tell him I’m embarrassed and ashamed, and he wouldn’t judge me. He’s seen me these past two years. He’s been in this house a hundred times, and he’s never judged me. Not once. I’ve never felt an ounce of shame around him.
One more hit, and the remains of the joint went into the toilet.
You had me on edge, Austin. But now I’m relaxed.
On her way to the sink, she thought what a shame it was that he had waited until the final hour to make his move. He could have broken her and Dirk up years ago with a kiss like that. But he would have had to repeat it, ten or twenty or a hundred times to drive the point home. To let her know for sure, for absolute sure, that it was safe to jump ship. That there was another life out there that was sustainable and decent and happy.
But you waited too long, Austin. You couldn’t get your nerve up until the final buzzer was about to sound.
God, this pot makes me cynical.
She washed her hands and splashed water on her face.
And it makes my eyes really bloodshot. No wonder Dirk says I look like shit.
When she opened the door, she could hear them downstairs.
“No,” Dirk said loudly, “tell me what was wrong with the steak.”
“There was nothing wrong with it.”
“Then why didn’t you eat it?”
Wanda made her footsteps loud on the wooden stairs to interrupt their argument, to tell them to put aside their disagreement and behave themselves.
“I just wasn’t that hungry,” Austin said.
“Dude, those steaks cost nineteen dollars a pound and I fucking slaved over that grill. Why would you come over in the first place if you weren’t hungry?”
Dirk could be intensely unpleasant when he was drunk, when the alcohol stripped off the veneer and showed the selfishness of his character. Wanda paused at the bottom of the stairs, not wanting to see him.
“You invited me, remember?” Austin said. “This is our last time hanging out. I’m moving across the country.”
“Yeah, well you should have stayed home if you weren’t hungry.”
“Lighten up,” Austin said. “You can eat the leftovers for breakfast.”
“Me? Eat your leftovers?”
“It’ll help your hangover.”
“You saying I’m drunk?”
Wanda wanted to walk in and separate them but she dreaded the confrontation.
“You are drunk,” Austin said. “You’re even more of an ass when you drink.”
“And you don’t need a drink to be an ass,” Dirk said.
She heard silverware fall on the table. Dirk must be picking up the plates in his clumsy drunken way. Better to go in now, before it gets worse.
She put on her happiest face as she rounded the corner from the stairs.
“You two,” she scolded.
Austin could see she was stoned. Wasted stoned. Her eyes were red and puffy. She was in that state he’d seen her in so many times, where she could barely put two thoughts together. She must have just smoked. She was only gone a few minutes. Her stupor would deepen as the drug made its way through her bloodstream to the receptors in her brain. He knew he couldn’t reach her in that state. He knew the night was lost.
She could see the disappointment in his face. She could feel the hope rush out of him all at once. She felt ashamed for letting him down, and in a second, the shame was drowned in a flood of anger.
Don’t you make me feel that way, she thought as sh
e turned and ran up the stairs. Don’t you ever put that hurt on me. I expect it from him, but not from you. I never expected you to make me feel any goddamn worse than I already do.
Locked in the bathroom, rocking back and forth on the edge of the tub, she said, God I’m sorry. I’m sorry I fucked it up, Austin, but this is who I am. I step one inch out of my comfort zone and then go running back to safety. Back to pot and Dirk and everything familiar. You cut too close tonight. Too fucking close, and I’m sorry I’m not all you thought I was, but I’m just not.
She heard the front door of the house slam. Austin was gone and Dirk was pounding at the bathroom door. “Open up, I gotta take a dump!”
“FUCK YOU!”
The scream was so loud and shrill, it took the skin off her throat.
26
“That didn’t go well,” Trevor said.
Hannah shook her head. “No.”
“Did you know?”
“That she was ready to explode?” Hannah nodded. “This has been years in the making. The only reason she’s stayed with him this long is because she has her fantasyland to escape to. The novels with their perfect heroes and happily-ever-afters. She keeps writing the same book over and over again. But she shouldn’t just be living it in her imagination. If that’s what she truly wants, she should be living it in real life.”
“And the pot?” Trevor asked.
“People take aspirin to ease their physical pain,” Hannah said. “Psychic pain requires other measures. What’s your read on her?”
“She’s a mess.”
“You think she’ll make it?”
“I don’t know. What do you think?”
Hannah shrugged.
“So, what’s next?” Trevor asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t think there’s anything more we can do. It’s on her now. Everything is up to her.”
“That scare you?”
It wasn’t the question that surprised Hannah so much as her immediate gut response. She hesitated a moment to second-guess it, but there it was, the simplest answer in the world.
“No.”
27
“Are we past our little meltdown?”
That was vintage Dirk. A compassionate question posed in a belittling tone.
Wanda watched from the edge of the tub as Dirk stood at the mirror rubbing cream into his face. He had one cream for his forehead and another for the corners of his eyes. A third cream firmed up the skin beneath the eyes, and then there was a general facial moisturizer that didn’t go on until after his morning shave so it wouldn’t get caught in his stubble.
He turned and looked at her. “I asked you a question.”
“I thought you had to use the toilet.”
“Yeah, well I missed my window of opportunity because somebody wouldn’t open the door.”
Of course he had all those creams. He was the star of his own life, and everyone else’s life as well, and he had to look the part.
“Why didn’t you use the downstairs bathroom?”
Wanda had a bottle of body lotion for the dry winters, and a facial cleanser to try to counteract what the junk food did to her skin, but beyond that, she had stopped taking care of her appearance. Even in the early days of their relationship, she was never as attentive to her looks as he was to his.
“The downstairs toilet seat lost its veneer,” he said as he carefully rubbed the corners of his eyes until the cream was no longer visible. “It chafes me.”
“How do you think I feel?” Wanda asked. “I sit on it more than you do.”
“Then why don’t you fix it?”
Normally that remark would have steamed her. That would be the first to set her temper off. She’d snap at him, and he’d reply coolly, a cutting retort delivered with apparent indifference. That would send her temper up another notch, and so they’d begin. It might take two minutes to make him lose his temper, or it might take twenty, but it would happen, and as the conflict escalated she would feel danger, arousal, and despair. Passion was all three of those wrapped up in one neat package.
Dirk picked up the lotion for his forehead, looked at it, and put it back down.
He wants to have sex, she thought. He knows I hate the smell of that lotion, the greasiness, and if he puts it on I won’t kiss him.
What did he say last time I objected to that stuff? Just turn around. You don’t have to face me when we do it.
The thought of him revolted her. How could he want to have sex tonight? After the evening had ended so badly, with he and Austin fighting and her locking herself in the bathroom and screaming?
Did anything turn him off?
“You gonna put on your PJ’s?” he asked as he loaded paste onto his toothbrush.
“I don’t know.”
What if I just watch him, she thought. What if I just watch him the way I watched Austin? Register the details but don’t react.
But you did react to Austin, she told herself. You reacted strongly. Much more strongly than you would have guessed.
That’s because he’s nice, and a little kindness goes a long way in the heart of a person who’s not used to getting any.
It sobered her to think of herself that way.
“Put on the green ones,” Dirk said through a mouthful of foam. “The pale greens. You know how they turn me on.”
He knew she was annoyed with him and wouldn’t want to put those on. He waited for her refusal, waited to gauge the level of hostility roiling her heart and clouding her mind.
“OK,” she said simply. “Whatever you want.”
Well that was no fun. No fun for Dirk Jaworski who needed an emotional reaction to remind himself how much he mattered.
Wanda went out to the bedroom and changed while Dirk finished brushing his teeth. He spent a few minutes flossing, flashing his teeth in the mirror several times in a grin that reminded Wanda of a monkey. He did it not in search of missed food, but simply to admire the whiteness of his teeth.
“You just going to stand there in the doorway watching me?” he said. He had a way of asking questions that made them sound like commands.
“Yeah.”
He dropped the floss on the counter—Wanda would clean it up in the morning—and poured a shot of mouthwash into the cap of the bottle.
He gargles like an ass, Wanda thought. He thinks he has to do it loud enough for the neighbors to hear.
Dirk spat dramatically into the sink, spattering the faucet, the counter, and the mirror in his carelessness. More work for Wanda tomorrow.
“Take off your clothes, Dirk.” There was no emotion in her voice.
“Really?”
She knew that would surprise him.
“Yeah.”
He pulled his shirt over his head. “Don’t you need me to warm you up first?” He had the chest and shoulders of a man who spent many hours at the gym.
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Wanda asked. “Can’t I serve you just as well if—”
Dirk’s pants and underwear came down in one quick jerk.
“Whoa!” said Wanda. “You don’t waste any time, do you?”
“You’re totally turning me on,” he said.
“Take them off. All the way.”
He did, and as she stood for a moment appraising him, her silence confused him.
“Well?” he said at last. His tone reminded her of the impatient customers she had waited on in restaurants during college summers. The ones who simply couldn’t understand why she didn’t jump to serve them.
“You’re a fine specimen of a man,” she said coolly. “But I don’t like you.”
She turned and left.
“Where are you going?” Dirk demanded.
“Away.” She pulled on a pair of shoes and ran toward the top of the stairs, afraid he would catch her from behind.
“Come back here!”
On the third step, she felt his hand swipe at her hair.
She took the remaining steps in twos, then cut hard to the right toward the front door.
“What are you doing, you crazy bitch?”
The door didn’t budge when she twisted the knob. She had to turn the deadbolt, and by then he had caught her by the waist.
She turned quickly. He would expect a blow, so instead she spat in his face. That surprised him enough to let go. In a second she was out the door, down the steps, full stride toward the sidewalk.
He was still after her when she rounded the corner.
“You’re in your pajamas!” Dirk yelled. “Where are you going?”
“I don’t know!”
She really didn’t.
Dirk made it another half block before realizing he was naked.
He stopped and watched her run.
“Crazy fucking bitch,” he muttered.
He walked slowly back to the house, looking for lights in windows, signs of wakefulness in the houses where he knew young women lived. Dirk Jaworski was putting on a free show, a free show of a fine specimen of a man, and it would be a shame if no one were there to witness it, no sleepless gawker to pick up the phone and tell a friend, “You won’t believe what I just saw.”
28
She marched with her arms folded across her chest, guided unconsciously toward her destination. In ten minutes she was knocking at Austin’s door.
Audrey answered. “He’s not here.” On her lovely bare arms, the spider and the butterfly and the motorcycle looked like random graffiti.
“Do you know where he is?”
“He came back and then he left.”
Wanda looked back at the street. “His car’s here. Maybe he walked to the store.”
“He took a Lyft. The only time he ever does that at night is when he’s going out drinking. What happened between you two?”
“I don’t know,” Wanda said. “I honestly don’t know. But how did you know something happened? Did he say anything?”
“He didn’t have to.”
“Was he upset?”
Wake Up, Wanda Wiley Page 10