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Another Life

Page 20

by Robert Haller


  What happened was Walmart. They had gone shopping, and April tried not to wonder what it said about you if the best time you’d had in years was in a Walmart store. They strolled down the aisles, taking their time, picking up supplies for the camping trip: coolers, water balloons, bug spray, first-aid kits. They had not touched—except for when she slapped him lightly on the arm after he made a very funny but very mean joke about one of the church elders, and except for when he dragged her by the hand to the grocery aisle and tried to convince her to feed the campers nothing but Spam and saltines for the weekend.

  What happened was, April felt a teenage sense of giddiness welling up inside her. And this should have alarmed her, she supposed. She shouldn’t have felt this happy, not given the circumstances this happiness had sprung from. Confusion, anxiety, confliction—these were the things she was supposed to be feeling. But she just didn’t. Something must be wrong with her.

  What happened was, the next afternoon, April found herself completely naked, lying next to Paul on her bed, breathing heavily.

  Beside her, Paul let out a long sigh and then said, “Do we have time to go again?”

  April began to giggle; she couldn’t help it. She felt high—no, she was completely sober, but her world was on drugs. She turned on her side and picked up her watch from where it sat on the bedside table. It was past two o’clock. She’d been gone from church for more than an hour now. Her alibi for her absence had been her internet service. Yesterday evening, she had gone to the living room, turned off the wireless router under her desk, unplugged it, and thrown it in her bedroom closet. As if on cue, five minutes later, Laura came downstairs, complaining that she had no connection.

  April had been finishing up the dishes and glanced up from the sink. “There’s something wrong with the router,” she said. “I’ll have to call the company tomorrow to come replace it.”

  Laura marched over to the desk in the living room. “Where’d it go? Did you toss it already?”

  April had dried off her hands with a towel and followed Laura into the living room. “Yes. It’s shot.”

  Laura’s eyes narrowed. “It was working fine literally ten minutes ago. How are you so sure it’s unfixable?”

  April looked at her daughter. She was wearing her dad’s old hooded sweatshirt, the one with the name of the construction company he used to work for. She had been wearing it for a few days now, throwing it over her outfit every morning as if this were the middle of the winter and not the hottest time of the year. April knew that something was bothering Laura, and that wearing her father’s old sweatshirt constantly was only the most visible sign. But she just hadn’t found the time to sit down and talk with her, not that Laura looked especially open to a heart-to-heart. She was scowling at her mother now, her hands thrust deep inside that horrible sweatshirt.

  “Aren’t you hot with that thing on?” April couldn’t help asking.

  “I’m fine,” said Laura. “Where is it, anyway? It probably just needs to be unplugged and plugged back in.”

  April could have kicked herself for having chosen such a contentious excuse to get out of an hour of work the next day. She could have blamed it on a leak in her bathroom, or faulty wiring. But there was no going back now, so she crossed her arms and said, “Laura, I already took the trash out. It’s broken. I think I know when something in my house is broken.”

  “You shouldn’t have thrown it out. You should have let me at least try and fix it.”

  “You spend too much time online anyway. You can survive a night without your precious Facebook.”

  Laura looked close to tears, which genuinely startled April. “I wasn’t even on Facebook! God, Mom, you are such a jerk sometimes.” Then she turned and marched out of the room and back upstairs.

  April had felt a little guilty about her lie after that, but so far, it was the only thing she felt guilty about. She didn’t feel guilty about lying here next to Paul after making love in an unrestrained, almost feverish way, attacking each other’s body with a sense of wild urgency as if, at any moment, either of them might disappear, leaving the other alone in a tangle of sweaty sheets. That morning in her bathroom, April had shaved between her legs, and in bed she spread them open wide and let Paul move down the length of her body and put his mouth there. She had writhed under him, moaned, buried her fingers in his hair, and when he lifted his head, she sat up and kissed his mouth as her hand moved down to grab his hard sex. This time, they had been ready with a condom. When it was over, Paul lay there on top of her, and April rubbed his back, savoring the feel of his weight pressing down on her.

  She did not feel guilty. And when Paul asked her if she wanted to do it again, there was no question in her mind—yes, yes, she really did. But something kept her from replying. It was the nagging thought that she couldn’t let Paul grow too comfortable with all this yet, that on some level she had to keep him waiting and wanting more. She resented herself for thinking this way. It felt petty and outdated. After all, at this point they both had made it perfectly clear that they wanted to have sex with each other, would go out of their way to make it happen, so why shouldn’t they have sex whenever, and however many times, they both were willing and able?

  But she couldn’t shake the thought that if she consented to whatever he proposed, he might find her easy and eventually lose interest. So instead of saying, Yes, please, let’s do it again, she turned to him on the bed and said, “Better not risk it,” smiled, and put her hand on his cheek. In response, he groaned, pulled the pillow over his head, and said, “April, you make me crazy.”

  This admission made her flush with pleasure. How long since someone had said that to her! And Paul looked as if he meant it. He must have been crazy—a boy like him, wasting his youth working at a church, sleeping with the vacation Bible school teacher.

  April placed her hand on Paul’s chest. “You’re aware that we’re like characters in a smutty romance novel, right?”

  Paul laughed. “I know. Isn’t it fantastic?”

  After a moment, April continued, trying to keep her tone light. “What ends up happening to the characters in those books? Because right now I’m having trouble seeing how this ends—happily, anyway.”

  Paul rolled over onto his side so that he was facing her. “There’s no point in thinking like that.” He placed a hand on her leg. “When can I see you again?”

  “I don’t know, Paul. I can’t have my internet on the fritz every day.”

  “How about tonight?” He was stroking her thigh now, moving his hand underneath the sheets.

  “Tonight? My kids will be here, and I can’t leave.”

  “Lock your bedroom door and leave your window open. We’ll be quiet. Like mice.”

  Paul had his hand between April’s thighs, and she felt a tingle of pleasure. The thought of doing it with her children oblivious upstairs made her hot and giddy, and she began to cover his neck in quick, fierce kisses. He moved his hand faster and harder against her. Then she rolled over on top of him, and they began to rock back and forth. And again that night, with the door locked and their noise masked by the giant fan on full blast, they rocked back and forth together, and when April came, she had to press her teeth against Paul’s shoulder.

  Paul got up, tossed the condom into the wastebasket by her bed, and lay back down beside her. She had her back to him, and he nestled against her, his body warm and slightly damp. He kissed the back of her neck, the hollow of her shoulder, her head. There was a moment of stillness. Then she felt his weight come off the mattress as he got out of the bed. She heard the rustle of his clothing and the snap of his belt buckle as he got dressed, his soft footsteps on the carpet as he walked across the room, and the faint thud as he dropped from her window to the backyard. For a while, the only sound was the steady drone of the fan, blowing summer night air in through the window, and then the muffled sound of her weeping softly into her
pillow.

  The next day, April woke up in a fog. She drifted through her morning routine on autopilot, taking her shower, drying her hair, getting dressed. On the drive to the church, Jason had to tell her to turn on the AC, because despite the blistering heat, she hadn’t noticed it wasn’t on. Distantly, as if through a wall, she could hear her son and daughter bickering in the car, but she didn’t listen to what they were saying. When she got to church, she greeted Lydia and some parents dropping their children off, but she was only half aware of their presence. It was as if her body—her legs, her arms, her mouth, her voice—knew that her mind had drifted away, and it was doing its best to keep going with no conscious direction.

  The cloud didn’t lift until she saw his green Toyota pull into the parking lot, and him get out of the car. April sat next to Lydia at her table under the main tent and watched him approach.

  When he reached them, he greeted Lydia with a smile and said to April, “Ms. Swanson, here’s the receipt for the camping supplies I picked up the other day.” He handed her a piece of paper. It was a receipt for fifteen dollars in gas, and scribbled across it in black ink was a note: Boys’ locker room, 20 min.

  When she came into the locker room, he jumped up, grinning, from the bench he’d been sitting on (the same one where, only two weeks ago, she had caught him smoking a cigarette with DeShawn).

  “Paul,” she said immediately, “I don’t know if we can—”

  He silenced her by running up to her and putting a finger to her lips. “Happy birthday,” he said, and handed her another piece of paper.

  This one looked like a printout of a web page:

  You deserve a vacation! Come get away for a weekend at the All Seasons Inn, located in beautiful Lake George. Experience the natural beauty of the Adirondack Mountains, with easy access to lovely campsites, hiking trails, and scenic lakefront. Enjoy the many attractions of the historic, charming town of Lake George, with great dining, shopping, and tourist attractions all at your fingertips!

  There was a photo of the inn, a sprawling chalet-style affair, with a phone number and address.

  April looked up at Paul. “What is this?”

  “It’s your birthday present. Many happy returns.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s where we’ll be staying tonight.”

  “Tonight?” said April. “Paul, just tell me what you’re thinking, please.”

  “After I left you last night, I couldn’t sleep. I hated leaving you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. So I tried to come up with a way we could be together, at least for a night. I went online and found this. The inn’s only a twenty-minute drive from the campsite we’re staying at—I checked. So here’s what we do: You call Pastor Eric today, now, and tell him you’ve been doing a lot of thinking the past couple of days. Tell him God is speaking to you, or whatever, and you want to go up to the campsite a night early, to talk to God, to pray and commune, or however you’d put it.” She tried to speak, but Paul held up his hand. “He’ll totally buy it; you know he will. All you have to do is mention how the Lord is moving you, right? And plus, you deserve it. You do all this for free, April. They can’t possibly hold it against you if you want to have a night for yourself before the camping trip.

  “I’m supposed to bring all the sound equipment from here up tomorrow morning. What I’ll do is bring it up with me tonight when I meet you, and I’ll call Jon in the morning and tell him I got up really early and took it, to get a head start. The kids aren’t leaving here tomorrow till late in the morning, right?”

  April nodded. “Eleven thirty.”

  “Great! So it’s easily a forty-minute drive from here. Think about it, April. That means we have all night and all morning—till noon at least—to ourselves, in the mountains, without having to worry about anybody finding us.” He placed his hand on her shoulders and squeezed.

  April opened her mouth and closed it again. While he was laying out his plan, April found it full of holes, but now she couldn’t see any of them. It seemed just about perfect. She was sure she could convince Pastor Eric that she needed a night for herself. The very short notice would only make it that much more convincing, and they would have more than enough time to get to the campsite before noon the next day. They might even order breakfast together. And their chances of running into anyone they knew in Lake George were indeed slim. They would be nobody special, just a couple of anonymous tourists in a town full of other anonymous tourists. But just as she was beginning to get excited for real, something occurred to her. “What about tonight’s service, the prophetic ministry? Don’t you have to be here to run sound for that?”

  For a second, Paul looked at her without understanding. Then his eyes rolled back, and he groaned. “Damn it! God damn it! How did I forget about that?”

  April couldn’t help smiling. “You really aren’t the most reliable of employees, are you?”

  “And I already missed a Sunday,” said Paul. Then he shook his head and shrugged. “Whatever, I’ll skip it anyway. If they fire me, they fire me.”

  “No, Paul, don’t be silly,” April said. “You’re not quitting your job.” She didn’t voice the thought that if he lost this job, he’d have no reason to come to church, which meant that excuses for the two of them to interact would essentially disappear. “The plan can still work,” she continued. “The service starts at seven, right? It should be over by nine. So we’ll just meet at the inn by ten.”

  “I’ll ditch as soon as I can,” said Paul.

  April had to smile at his earnestness. She placed a hand on his cheek. “I’m sure you will.”

  As Paul had predicted, Pastor Eric bought April’s claim that the Lord was telling her she needed a night to herself. He said he completely understood, though he did seem a little perplexed by her desire to spend it in the mountains. “You’re sure you want to be up there all alone for the night?” he asked her on the phone.

  “Well, that’s kind of the point,” April said, immediately regretting it because it sounded brusque.

  “You know our prophetic ministry is this evening,” Pastor Eric said. “Maybe it would be good for you to come. Alone time can be healthy, but it’s also important to spend time with the rest of the body.”

  Although she knew there was no way he could suspect anything, April was still eager to be as amicable as possible, to avoid arousing any unwanted curiosity. So she said, “Of course! What I’ll do is come to the service tonight and head up to the campsite after.”

  “Wonderful!” Eric sounded pleased. “I think that’ll be good for you.”

  “Yes,” she said. “I do, too.”

  The silence in the sanctuary was so total, April could hear the distant sounds of a baby crying in the nursery, far down the hall on the opposite side of the church. She could hear the bullfrogs outside in the swamp, their deep calls coming in through the open windows. And she could hear the slow, deep breathing of Dr. Langston through his microphone as he stood with head bowed, eyes closed, and his hands on Paul Frazier’s shoulders.

  Then he lifted his head and, with his eyes still closed, began to speak.

  “Lord, it says in your word that your servant Moses wandered the desert for forty years, aimless, without a goal or destination. And it says that when you spoke to him through the burning bush, Moses was reluctant to hear your call. He did not think he was the right man for the job. He thought that you might have made a mistake. But, Lord, we know, you do not make mistakes. We know that your plans are bigger than our plans, that your ways are higher than ours.

  “And the Lord would say unto my brother here that just like Moses, you have been wandering in your own wilderness, without goal or destination. You have felt lost; you have felt confused; you have felt alone. But the Lord would say unto you, my brother, that just as he did with Moses, he is calling you out of that wilderness now and into the plan that
he has made for you, thanks be to God, praise Jesus!

  “The Lord would have you know that he has prepared a way for you. He has made a plan for you that is greater and more amazing than you have had the faith to imagine. The Lord would say unto you, my brother, that soon, very soon, something is coming. Indeed, maybe it has already arrived but you have yet to recognize it. Something is coming, and this thing will change your life forever. The Lord would encourage you not to be afraid of this thing, not to feel that it is beyond your ability or strength to deal with, because the Lord would remind you—he will give you ability, he will give you strength, if you have faith and call out to him.

  “And the Lord would say unto you, do not be afraid of this thing, though it may be frightening. Do not be confused by this thing, though it may be confusing. It has come from God. It is part of his plan, and what it will do, my brother, is help make you into the person the Lord intended you to be, praise Jesus! It will test you, yes. It will make you work, but through this thing, you will become a great man in the house of God, thank you Jesus. You will become a man of integrity, of wisdom and strength, and you will serve this house; you will serve this church and be a shining example to the body and to the world beyond, praise Jesus.

  “This is the Word of the Lord. Praise God.”

  Dr. Langston took his hands from Paul’s shoulders. Paul raised his head and opened his eyes. And this time, it was April who averted her eyes to the floor.

  April had always liked to drive. She enjoyed the motion and the sense of freedom and anonymity it gave her. A long drive gave you a chance to think. But also, if you wanted to, you could empty thoughts from your head, feel the breeze whipping in through the open window, and see the sky spreading out before you like a big blue sea that you were barreling toward. But now, on the last night of her thirties, heading north up the interstate, into the mountains, to Lake George, April found she could hardly stand it. She felt alone in a way that was total and terrifying, as if she would be forced to stay in this car forever, in eternal night, driving down empty, endless stretches of highway. Although it was warm, she felt chilly. The lights from other cars were like beacons when she passed them on the road, but they offered only small comfort. Suddenly, the sense of alone-togetherness of highway driving struck her as weird, even absurd—how so many people could be heading in the same direction, on the same night on the same road, and yet be so completely separated.

 

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