Everyone relaxes. A hearty guy handshake follows and it is agreed that Tim and Lenny will bunk together next door.
“Well, that was bizarre,” I sigh, sitting down on one of the beds.
Jodi makes sure that the door between our room and theirs is locked. Then she comes and sits down next to me.
“Which part, specifically?”
“The Lenny coming to see me in Miami part!” I say. “I mean, not that the me-being-in-Miami part isn’t bizarre, or the us-being-here-with-a-gorgeous-movie-start part isn’t even more bizarre,” I add. “I think I’m getting sick. I think I need to lie down.”
“Lauren, the Lenny-coming-to-see-you part is probably the least bizarre of them all,” Jodi says.
Kat nods, coming to sit. “You’re beautiful. And you’re funny. Putting aside the fact that Lenny’s pulled a dick move as an accessory to potential adultery, he’s not wrong about you.”
“I don’t believe you.” I put my head on a pillow and pull the blanket up to my shoulders.
“Believe us. We wouldn’t hang out with you if you were boring and ugly,” Jodi says, stroking my hair.
Jodi’s so-called logic makes me smile, as always.
“See?” she says. “Such a pretty smile.”
“So…” Kat begins. “What are you going to do about Lenny, exactly?”
“Sleep with him,” I mumble into the pillow.
“What!” Jodi shrieks.
“No!” Kat says.
“I mean, he did come all this way for me. It’s the least I can do.” I grin.
“Oh, thank God, she’s lying,” Jodi says to Kat.
I reposition myself on the bed. “Ugh! Truth is, I have no idea what I’m going to do. I mean, for all my daydreaming, I never thought of a moment like this one actually presenting itself. I just had these blank fantasies of us…like…on a mountaintop.”
“Like in The Sound of Music?” Jodi wonders aloud.
“Or hanging together at a club,” I continue. “You know, when you go to have your picture taken in front of a blue screen and they Photoshop the background in after? My daydreams are nonspecific like that.”
“Sexy.” Jodi smiles.
“You crazy slut!” Kat adds.
“Jeez, you two!” I say, hurling pillows at them. “What do you want from me? I feel like I’m back in high school and my friends and I are planning for my loss of virginity.”
“You planned it?” Kat asks.
“You didn’t?” I ask back.
I lie back down and readjust the comforter. “I’m a flirt. That’s all I’ve ever been. A big-talking, daydreaming, romanticizing, cock-teasing good girl. I never thought I’d ever have to deal with the nitty-gritty of infidelity.”
“Oh, it could get nitty…” Kat singsongs.
“And gritty…” Jodi adds melodramatically. I ignore them.
“I guess I’ll have to talk to him, figure out how I feel. I don’t know. He’s so adorable. But…shit. How old am I?” I sigh. “Kat, could you open the minibar and pass me a tiny bottle of alcohol?”
This whole thing is actually making me miss Doug. Right now I crave the safety of a real-life, stable relationship, even one as distant as ours currently is. I wish I could ask him what I should do in this situation.
I know, I know, this seems completely counterintuitive. I’m just not used to making big decisions on my own. Doug’s opinion is so strong, so sure, so ever-present. Even when I don’t ask for it, he gives it to me. Like, every day for the past decade or more. “Those shoes make you look like a librarian,” for example, as I’m heading out the door to work. Or, “If you washed your car every once in a while, I might take a ride somewhere with you.”
Oh, that’s right. It’s all coming back to me now. All the tiny criticisms and how they build up until they became a wall around me. Screw you, Doug! my head screams. You and all your little barbs can just go to hell. “I’m just being sarcastic,” he’s said when I call him on his nasty attitude. “You’re too sensitive, Lauren. They’re jokes.”
Sarcasm, my ass.
I climb off the bed, slide open the door to the balcony, and step outside for some air. I swear, it’s hard to breathe around Doug sometimes, even when he’s 1,200 miles away.
But then I think about how it used to be between us, in those first years of our relationship and marriage. He was so easygoing and thoughtful, so sweet and funny. Where did he go? And where am I?
“So?” Kat says, stepping outside with me and handing me the world’s smallest rum and Coke.
“I think it’s time for me to call my poor, unsuspecting husband.”
Jodi wishes me luck and goes to take a shower. Kat and I turn off the TV to ensure complete silence while I’m on the phone. She busies herself by mixing more tiny cocktails in plastic cups.
I close my eyes as Doug’s cell phone rings, imagining myself in a different hotel room for an entirely different purpose.
“Lauren!” Doug answers on the fourth ring, sounding relieved. My heart gives a small tug in his direction.
“Hi,” I sigh. I don’t know what to say. I sort of miss you? I’m having fun without you, behind your back? Lenny Katzenberg is here with me in Florida and I’m pretty sure he wants to do the nasty with me? “How are the kids?”
“Fine now.”
“Fine…now?” I ask. “But, like, not fine before now?”
“We just had a little babysitter situation. Jackie had to cancel at the last minute and I’m still in the city. She didn’t want to call and bother you and I didn’t want to call and worry you, so I handled it myself.”
He sounds proud of his efforts, but I’m not convinced. “Could you elaborate? On how you handled it? Without me?”
“Why do you sound mad, Lauren? There was nothing you could do. Relax, it’s fine.”
I’m not mad; I’m furious. With myself.
“But who did you call? Were the kids freaking out? What about Laney? Were they by themselves? Is Jackie okay?” My mind immediately travels to the worst-case scenario, in which my children are alone in the house and have decided to turn on the oven, run the bath, and light some matches for fun while downing bagfuls of peanuts and almonds. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“Because you’re not home, Lauren. Because there was nothing you could have done.”
The fact that he’s right only makes me feel worse.
Kat, lured by the sounds of my distress, comes out onto the terrace to pour me another tiny cocktail. I down it in one gulp and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
“I called Mrs. Hunter from next door,” Doug continues.
“The one who killed her cat?”
“They were never able to prove that.”
“Did it hang itself in the basement, Doug?” I am losing it now. “Did it?”
“It may have been driven to suicide, yes,” he says in an even tone. “That’s what the police report concluded, at any rate.”
“How does a cat…?” I stop myself. “Is she still with Ben and Becca?” I ask in horror.
“No, no. Jackie volunteered to get the kids off the bus at three thirty, so I sent Laney home early. But when Jackie didn’t show up on time, I called Mrs. Hunter, who brought the kids to her house for a snack.”
“Dear Lord.”
“Then I spoke to Jackie, who, by the way, didn’t sound remorseful at all and who we will never again use as a stand-in babysitter.”
“But…she’s always been so responsible! Isn’t she getting a teaching degree?”
“Whatever, Lauren. I don’t know where you find these people.”
“Craigslist.” I turn my back on the view from the balcony and lean against the railing. In the glass door, I catch a reflection of myself, blond hair loose in the balmy night air.
“Anyway, I had to call Laney, who has a class tonight, but she was able to send her roommate with our house key to babysit until I get home. Diana, I think her name is.”
“You think?” I bark.
“I’m doing the best I can, Lauren!”
“I know,” I choke, willing myself not to cry.
I’m the only person I know who takes a small vacation and ends up on a huge guilt trip.
“You okay?” Doug asks, his voice softer now.
“Mm-hmm,” I mumble, small tears rolling down my cheeks. Right now, I want to smell my son’s hair. I want to bury my head in my daughter’s warm neck. Have I strayed too far from them and Doug, from my life? I take a deep breath.
“Can you tell me where you are? When you’re coming home?”
“Saturday,” I whisper.
“You’re sure? The case will be over by then?”
“I’m sure.” I say. “Done on Saturday.”
“Okay, then.” It sounds like he’s smiling. “That’s manageable. I’ll just pretend you’re on a business trip,” he jokes. “One of those teacher’s conferences in places like upstate New York, or Pittsburgh!”
Or Miami.
“I’m sorry, Doug. I’m so sorry,” I say.
“Lauren, it’s something you had to do,” he reminds me. “Don’t be sorry.”
The fact that he’s being nicer and sounding more sympathetic than I’ve heard him in months gives me pause.
Is it because I’m away? One of those absence-makes-the-heart-grow-fonder things?
Or because I’m supposedly sequestered? Which must suck if you have to do it in real life?
Or because I sound distraught, which I am, by the babysitter’s abandonment of the children I abandoned first?
Or…is he distracted by something else? Working late, canceling on me and the kids, never wanting to go out and have fun with me anymore.
Maybe that distance I’m feeling in my marriage isn’t entirely my fault. Maybe it isn’t entirely imagined.
I glance at the adjoining door between our room and Lenny’s, and wonder, is Doug hiding something from me? I mean, it doesn’t seem all that hard to cheat, lie, or steal from someone you love. Jodi can do it. Tim Cubix can do it. If I could do it, couldn’t Doug?
“Doug. Is there anything you want to tell me?” I ask.
There is a slight beat and then he answers. “Nope. All good here.”
His lighthearted sincerity is all I have to go off of. I make a judgment call to believe what I hear, to put my faith in the man I married twelve years ago and who I know so well.
I only hope he still has faith in me, when this crazy leave of absence is done.
“You know,” I say. “This…jury duty thing. It is something I had to do, actually.” I take a hearty sip of my latest rum and Coke and let myself relax a bit.
“Oh, and Lauren, before you go. The strangest thing. I’ve been getting these cryptic messages from a Martha Carrington over at the middle school. She seems to think that you were released from jury duty on Tuesday morning…?”
Fuck me! I try not to get frazzled as I stare at the sun setting over Miami, and start yelling into the phone, thinking fast. “What’s that, Doug? You’re breaking up! Damn this cell phone. The bailiff is calling us right now…I shouldn’t be talking to you…Tell Martha I’m at a hotel in an undisclosed location and that we’re about to have pizza delivered to our rooms…I’m bunking with a woman named Carrie…not allowed to watch TV or turn on the radio…like the OJ case…highly sensitive matter…I love you…I gotta go!” I finish, opening the sliding glass door and tossing my cell phone onto the bed as if it’s on fire.
Chapter 18
“This is rockin’!” Tim screams over the beat of deep bass, giving me the thumbs-up sign and drinking his alcohol like a good boy. He has been completely transfigured. Back in the hotel room, Jodi used her professional makeup kit to transform Tim. Then we accessorized him to the hilt so that no one can even tell there’s a person under all the stuff.
It’s amazing what a hat, sunglasses, and a hairy mole can do to change one’s appearance.
“You’re like the Artist Formerly Known as Tim Cubix!” I yell back.
“Shh.” He chuckles, swaying slightly in the tide of the crowd. “Don’t give it away. I love being anonymous!”
“That’s why the Clevelander is so perfect for us tonight,” I add. “It’s easy to get into and it’s filled with tons of trashed nobodies!” I’m finding that the more I drink, the easier it gets to just hang with my movie star.
Even though he’s in disguise, he does not want to hit the usual high-end Miami hot spots tonight.
“When I party, I’m not looking for an attitude, but a vibe,” he says. “And this place has got it.”
“Woo-hoo!” Kat says by way of agreement, coming over to us with Lenny in tow. Alcohol has made her soften a bit toward Lenny. “Although I still think he’s a prick to pick on a married lady,” she assured me, before pulling him onto the dance floor a few minutes ago.
“Have you seen the women’s bathroom?” Kat asks us.
“I regret that I have not,” Tim notes.
“Well,” she continues, clearly tipsy, “it is, like, stocked with great stuff! There’s hairspray to use and all, and condoms, but then there’s also a full-on candy bar! With gum and mints, and…these!” she says, producing enough Blow-Pops for us to each take one. Which we do. Enthusiastically.
“Hey, where’s Jodi?” Kat asks. I gesture toward the raised dance floor, where she is dancing to Pink’s “Bad Influence” with the huge, blacker-than-night bouncer.
“Ooh…let’s join her!” We push our way through the crowd of spring-breaking twentysomethings until we reach the front.
I have managed to avoid any solo time with Lenny, thus avoiding having any sex with him. So far this strategy has worked.
Lenny and the Artist decide to watch from the sidelines as Jodi, Kat and I have a blast dancing our asses off. Lenny stands a good three or four inches taller than Tim, and I realize that the movies make him seem bigger than he really is.
Kat’s request for the Weather Girls’ “It’s Raining Men” floods the dance floor with bodies. We are suddenly surrounded by tons of people, a circle forming around us. We take turns busting out moves and dancing with strangers, as onlooking dancers hoot and applaud.
Jodi disappears momentarily and comes back with MC Lenny, who takes center stage with ease. He breakdances, moonwalks and gyrates around Jodi, who smiles and shakes her butt at him. Then the bouncer finds Jodi again and Lenny is left dancing solo.
He looks my way and I feel my heart lurch. I know I shouldn’t dance with him. Dancing is the first step toward my romantic downfall. I lose all inhibition when confronted with disco. It’s like, gimme a drink, play some Gloria Gaynor, and watch my pants magically disappear. There are several college men from the class of ’92 who will attest to that.
I shake my head at Lenny. He makes a sad face.
Poor Lenny. So far, I am not worth the price of a plane ticket.
I watch him find a new dance partner, a perky blonde who looks like me twenty years ago. I momentarily feel a pang of jealousy. Partially for him, but mostly because I wish I still looked like her.
The thought makes me panic. Where did the time go? I mean, one minute I was twenty, and in the next, my lifespan has doubled.
The issue is, I don’t feel forty. I still feel twenty, or maybe twenty-five, and I think I always will. That disconnect between my biological age and the one I feel inside is what’s so confusing. Most of the time, I walk around thinking I’m young. It’s not until I look at this girl dancing with Lenny that I remember that there’s an entire generation of adults out there that are younger than me.
Which is what I’d call a buzzkill.
But then Kat grabs me and forces me to dance with her as a circle forms in the center of the floor. I pretend to push Kat into the circle for a solo and she pretends to push me back, because we’re lame like that.
A few guys move in to breakdance a bit. We clap and hoot and raise our fists in solidarity with them.
Then Lenny enters the circle and Kat and I whistle
at him as if he’s a stripper. He winks our way and then presses his torso against the floor, moving his body up and down in waves.
“Go Lenny, go Lenny, go Lenny!” we cheer. Without so much as bending his knees, he pops back up and busts a few more moves for the crowd before bowing and then disappearing back into the circle. “That was awesome,” I gush at Kat. “If Doug did that I would so have sex with him right now.”
“You’d fuck a guy for doing the worm?” Kat asks dubiously. “That’s all it takes?”
She stares at me, then adds, for effect, “The worm.” She stops before saying the rest, which I believe would be something to the effect of: Your life really is sadder than I thought.
Kat doesn’t understand, because she hasn’t been married to the same man for over a decade. She doesn’t understand that a man who breakdances is sexy, and a man who flirts with you online is sexy, and a man who follows you down to South Beach and drops everything just to be with you is sexier than hell. She doesn’t understand how incredibly, overwhelmingly sexy a man can be when he does for you all the things that your husband just doesn’t.
I push my way out of the circle and go in search of Len.
When I find him, I lean into him with my whole body, my hands pressed firmly against his chest. His heart is beating fast. He looks down at me with something like laughter, but then sees my expression. His face turns serious, matching mine, his eyes asking me something like now or yes or really and I know that if I don’t act fast we’ll end up speaking to each other and the last thing I want right now are words.
So I kiss him.
And I am instantly on fire. And then the club starts spinning and I’m standing—I know I’m still standing—but I feel like I have tilted sideways and I can’t get enough of Lenny, and yet I know I need to stop, all at the same time.
Everything around me fades away, all sound, all movement, all people, and there’s only us.
There is something electrifying about slipping my tongue into the mouth of another man. There is a current, a charge, that makes it very hard to break free.
Until a moment later, when all sound and movement and people come rushing back and remind me of who I am and what I am doing.
Lauren Takes Leave Page 20