Chapter Three

  After the videocon, she put the screen on split so she could enjoy a movie while she did her research about cloning. The channels and titles flashed by and she settled on “Back to the Future Part 2.” She vaguely remembered seeing that when she was little. As she surfed under searches like “cloning,” and “genetic engineering,” the movie played loudly on the other side. It featured a flying car, which made her laugh.

  “Give me a break!” she said out loud at the screen. The action showed a whole skyway full of cars careening past each other. Marty, the main character says “Do you mean we’re in the future?” and Doc Brown replies that they have landed in the year 2015. She hit the guide button to check for the release year: 1989. It figures, she thought.

  Still, she kept the movie on while she ran searches on the other side. So far, she was just coming up with university genetics departments and other generic information. She realized that an organization that did cloning was not going to advertise on the web or the yellow pages. They would not have a commercial that went “Have you tried and tried to have a kid, with no success? Has IVF left you disappointed and disillusioned? Well, worry no more because now there’s Clone-a-kid! Hey!”

  Would her doctor know? If he did, he would ask too many questions. She tried a different tactic: there was her health insurance information line. After hitting the bookmark, she turned off her camera and hit the link, She selected “voice” on the terminal and a couple of seconds later, the phone rang.

  A bored sounding young woman answered: “Columbia Health First, my name is Lauren and my badge number is 4976583. For your protection, this session may be recorded. How may I help you today?”

  Suella jumped in and said “I just have a general health-related question. Do you still need my member number?”

  “Possibly not, ma’am,” she said. “What type of general question did you have?”

  She cleared her throat. “What can you tell me about cloning? Is it legal?”

  There was a pause from the other end of the line and Suella heard her shuffle a couple of papers on her desk. “Just a minute.” For the next few moments she mumbled in a barely audible voice about court cases and rulings and an instance of cloned twins. A couple of minutes passed, and Suella was going to say something but the woman broke in. “This is really strange. I’m not getting a definitive answer. Would you mind if I put you on hold and checked around?”

  “No, I wouldn’t mind. Go right ahead.”

  Generic, synthesized Mozart played. In the meantime, she continued to surf, trying terms such as “Cloning-legal aspects” and “First clones.” At the same moment she saw a picture of a healthy looking three-year-old boy, the customer service representative returned. “Ma’am, thank you for waiting. This is what I can tell you. Cloning was affected by the stem cell rule of 2012. Since cloning falls under that same umbrella, it’s in a big gray area, where it’s neither explicitly illegal or explicitly legal.”

  “I see,” Suella said.

  “I wish I could be of more help. Possibly you can find the answer you need in the legal division?”

  Suella realized that was a good idea. “Thank you for all your help.” All she had to do was find a lawyer who could be discrete. Her own lawyer, of course, would not do since he knew her too well and would ask too many questions. There was certainly no shortage of names she could pick out of a hat because one generic check of “attorneys” brought up fifteen pages worth of listings! Suella remembered a rhyme from when she was a little girl: “Eenie, meenie, miney, mo.”

  Just to further protect herself, she blocked her number before calling. When a bored sounding young man answered at the other end of the line, Suella told him about her questions regarding cloning.

  “Yes, it’s true that cloning isn’t exactly legal or illegal,” he said. “The technology is new and there have been some viable babies born from cloning. “

  “Well, how would I find someone who would do this for me? It’s not like they advertise, right?”

  He chuckled. “No. I guess you would have to be referred. What I do know is that cloning and medical supervision for carrying the fetus to term is quite expensive.”

  Suella had figured as much. It would probably cost about the same as space tourism. “Can you give me a ballpark figure?” She smiled at the irony, of being a baseball player’s wife.

  He snickered again. “Well, I’m sure it starts at a mill and goes upward from there.”

  Ugh.

  For the next couple of days, while Suella ran about her other activities, she kept trying to justify the expense. More than five times her annual salary. Nathan, as what they called a “long reliever” earned five million each season. Unlike other baseball players who’d gone before him, though, he spent and invested his money carefully. “I don’t know how much time I got left,” he would sometimes say. He would blanch at the prospect of spending a million dollars for anything.

  Soon, she’d have to continue her talk with him. The All-Star break was coming up, which should put him in a better mood. Usually they tried to squeeze in a family visit during those four days, such as going to see Nathan’s parents in Kansas City or Suella’s mother in Florida. Yet they had just been to both places over the holidays. Nathan’s team started a west coast road trip immediately after the break. Suella thought about suggesting that they just head to their big house and spend a few days there. When she discussed the subject at dinner that night, however, she received a disappointment.

  “That’s not the way things are done, babe,” Nathan said. “There’s going to be a meeting here right after the break and then we’ll fly out west. We have a chance this year. Salty bones wants to give us a motivational speech before we start the second half.” “Salty bones” was the manager of his team. Suella had always assumed that the nickname came from the man’s salt and pepper hair, yet he was mostly bald when he took off his baseball cap.

  “Okay, so we’ll stay out here,” Suella said. She looked forward to having a few leisurely days off with her husband.

  “I’m sorry, babe, but we’re going to have to wait till Halloween again. I have to talk about something private with my dad. He’s getting up there in years, you know.”

  Suella didn’t even bother to hide her disappointment. “Fine,” she said.

  She attended the last couple of games at the stadium before the break. The team was playing St. Louis but they could have been playing the Martians for as much as she cared. For both games, she spent the entire time in the suite with the girls, even when Nathan pitched a couple of innings in the Sunday game. The Cardinals bombed him, anyway. He would want sex that night, so Suella prepared herself. He always wanted sex after a bad outing of pitching. It was as if he was trying to reassure himself that he could still perform in other areas of his life. She left the game ahead of the other wives just to buy extra time.

  Once back at the condo, she drank a glass of wine, fixed her hair and put on fresh makeup. She freshened herself all over with the collection of lotions and perfumes she always kept on hand. To sweeten things even further, she changed into the red, lacy teddy that Nathan liked and she sat up in bed, waiting for him.

  And waiting for him. And waiting for him.

  She watched reruns of thirty-year-old shows such as “Friends” when she realized that hours had gone by. The wine had made her slightly drowsy, and just as she was going to lay the pillows down and rest, the front door creaked open. “Hey,” Nathan said as he poked his head into the bedroom. Suella smelled stale cigarette smoke (why in God’s name was anyone doing that anymore?) and hard liquor. When he saw her, his eyes lit up like a young boy on Christmas morning. “Well aren’t you nice!” Allowing his blazer to slide off of him and crumple to the floor, he strode the length of the room, kicked off his shoes and crawled gracefully onto the bed.

  Suella accep
ted him, wincing at the strong alcohol smell for a moment, kissing him deeply. She reached down to undo the top buttons of his shirt, but Nathan suddenly pulled away, lifting himself up into a seated position. He swung his knees off the bed and said that he would be back right away. It struck her as odd. Normally the sight of her on the bed with the teddy, glamorously made up would keep him coming right after her. This time, though, he wanted to take his own clothes off and freshen up in the bathroom. At least that’s what she assumed he was doing when she heard the faucet run.

  He also brushed his teeth.

  When he stepped out of the bathroom, he was naked, smiling and loosened his knuckles as if he was going to perform a piano concerto. “Now, where were we?” He lowered himself down again, in a graceful fluid motion, and Suella had to admit that this time the kiss was much nicer. She pushed the covers aside so that he could play with her easier. He touched her legs, her thighs, and the dampness of her love petals. “You are so good to me,” he said. “I don’t deserve you.”

  He’d said that before, but this time, he seemed to mean it. Though she leaned back and allowed herself to enjoy his expert and enthusiastic lovemaking, his comment had cast a pall over everything. Later, when she stayed awake and he slept, she told herself she was just imagining things. After all, as she told herself over and over, she was really the lucky one.

  Nathan played one more game on Sunday (he didn’t get to pitch: one of the club’s rookie phenoms threw a complete game, 3-hit shutout that day). Since he wasn’t appearing in the all-star game (he’d only been voted into one in his entire career), that left five solid days of vacation. In the past, Suella had always loved the all-star break because it gave them a rare chance to be together during the summer. This year, she felt at a loss, left out even though with five days on her own she could accomplish a lot, too. Her flight to LA was Friday morning.

  By Wednesday she was bored. She worried about the Santa Monica home much more than the Mount Adams home. The team travel agent assured her that she could exchange her Friday ticket for a Wednesday night red-eye. She would arrive early.

  With the extra couple of days she could straighten up, take care of errands that had piled up and get herself rested and relaxed for another one of Nathan’s amorous moods. The long flight from Cincinnati gave her plenty of time to get caught up on work and respond to her emails. She even had time left over to watch part of the in-flight movie, read the magazine and play an odd video game called “Sand Castle City.”

  Most importantly, going home to Santa Monica meant that she would drive her own car again. When the plane finally landed, she walked briskly through the terminal to the ground transportation area. Once she reached her car, she stopped to admire it the way she always did. While she could definitely afford more, she loved her Mazda 3E super sport in honey and white. It was the first true electric car Mazda made. Suella turned the key and heard the metallic whine of the capacitors spinning, something Nathan joked sounded like “hamsters on a treadmill.” Since it was 3AM when she arrived, there’d be next to no traffic to hinder her on her short jaunt home, either. She felt very pleased with herself until she reached her driveway, turned in, and saw Nathan’s car parked there. Well, he had two in LA and one in Cincinnati, maybe he’d just used the Toyota to go to the airport during the most recent time. She shrugged it off, parked her car behind his, and walked toward the breezeway. She entered that door, and the side door for the house, leading into the kitchen.

  An odd feeling gripped her as soon as she shut the door behind her. She felt a horrifying sense of dread. She was not alone. She dropped her large carry-on and let her laptop bag tumble onto the couch. Gingerly, she crept through the family room and down the hallway to the other wing. She turned the doorknob slowly, letting the tumblers click and creak with barely a sound as she then cracked the door open.

  Light from the hallway spilled into the room, causing an angle-shaped ray to slice along the floor and sweep over the bed. The light revealed a head of long, curly blonde hair at the end of one rumpled shape, semi-covering another rumpled shape. She flicked the light on and the owner of the long, curly blonde hair jerked bolt upright, clasping the covers to her chin. The form beside her also stirred. Nathan rose, rubbing his eyes, shielding them from the light, saying “What the…”

  Suella recognized the woman with the long blonde hair but had forgotten her name. The woman said “Holy shit.” They’d been introduced at a couple of different parties. She had gone to school with Nathan and had come west in search of an acting career. Suella wanted to say something, but a lump in her throat nearly choked her. Tears flooded her eyes. Not knowing what else to do, she slammed the door shut, ran to the family room and collapsed onto the couch, sobbing into a pillow. It all hit her as a nasty nightmare and she fell into a vortex of pain and sobbing. Her shoulders tensed and shuddered with each wracking bout of sobs, bringing waves of aching agony to her.

  She didn’t know how long she’d been splayed out over the couch like that. Soon she felt a light tap on her shoulder and someone calling her name softly. “Suella,” he kept saying. “I know this looks bad. I know I’m in trouble. Can we please talk?”

  As he wished, she lifted her head from the pillows and sat up on the couch. Nathan sat on the armrest, above her. Suella thought he was always trying to gain the upper hand no matter what. “You lied to me!” she said, her voice cracking.

  “I lied,” he repeated, hanging his head low. “I lied, I was unfaithful, I should be shot. Do you want to know why?”

  Suella swallowed, wiping a tear away. “That’d be a good start.” What on earth was he going to say? That you get tired of vanilla ice cream all the time? That sooner or later you’re going to want butter pecan? She readied herself to listen to someone more closely than she’d ever listened to anyone in her whole life.

  “Toni is an old friend. We’ve known each other since high school. She’s going through a rough time. I was trying to help.”

  Well, she thought for an insane moment, at least he isn’t saying that she “means absolutely nothing to me.” Still, she knew that her husband’s words demanded a response, a comeback. “Exactly what type of help are you talking about?”

  “I’ve known her since high school, since we were both starting out, me in the minors and she pounding the pavement out here, trying to get something to happen.”

  Suella vaguely remembered that Toni had some success as an actress, landing a role in an Adam Sandler comedy at one point before the man turned-about and started doing only action flicks. Still, Suella ached to know at least one thing: “How often do you get together, like this. And I don’t want any more lies. I want the bald truth.

  No matter how much you think it’s going to hurt me.”

  Nathan sighed, and for a moment looked like a sad, vulnerable boy. “Would it help you if I tell you that we didn’t even have sex tonight?”

  “How much, Nathan?”

  “And that we’re more like just friends. She’s practically a sister to me.”

  “How much, Nathan? How many times?”

  He balled his hands into fists and grabbed at his temples, jerking his head down for a moment. “We’ve helped each other through so much together.” When he pulled his hands away from his face, she could see that tears had started to well up in his eyes. He could not cry at will and was a horrible actor. She felt a twinge of compassion for him. Still…

  “How many times, Nathan. How much?”

  He groaned. “Will knowing the raw number help? Will it really help?”

  “I’m your wife. I want to know. I need to know. Tell me.”

  He swallowed, and glanced at the Jackson Pollack they’d bought together at an auction once. “Yes, you’re my wife! I’m your husband! You’re the love of my life. Nothing will change that, ever.”

  “How many times?”

 
Nathan closed his eyes, his lip quivering. “Five or six.”

  Suella knew she was supposed to be the one who spoke next. She wondered if Nathan expected her to throw something at him. Even if she wanted to, she didn’t think she could summon the energy. To assume a position of power, and also because her chest ached, she folded her arms. “What else don’t I know, Nathan? What else?”

  “Angel, you’re my dearest friend. I love you. I don’t want to lose you.”

  Okay, style points for using the term of endearment she loved the most. But they had both been married over thirty, when they had both accomplished much in their lives. Suella’s lawyers met with her for days, drawing up a lengthy and complicated pre-nuptial agreement they could both live with. Divorce would be painful and messy, for both of them. And deep down, Suella knew something fundamentally true: most men wanted more than one woman for at least one time in their lives. But beside all the business machinations and the implications for their future, Suella wanted to keep Nathan. “I don’t want to throw you away. But this changes things.” For another moment she stared off into space, unable to look at him.

  Suella said “I want you to do something for me.”

  He maneuvered himself around into her field of vision. “Yes, Angel?” He was gazing into her eyes beseechingly. Oh god, she thought, he was so easy to love.

  “Hold me,” Suella said.

  Nathan reached up and eased himself over to Suella, gathering her into his arms. Smartly, Suella thought, he stayed silent as they held each other tightly, their breath rising and falling together. Suella could hear her heart beat. Toni broke the spell when she tiptoed across the floor past them, walking to the front door. “I really should go,” she said, when both Suella and Nathan looked up at her.

  “Please stay,” Suella said, in a neutral tone, devoid of any emotion.

  “But it isn’t right,” Toni protested.

  “You can sleep in the guest room,” Suella offered. She looked up at Toni, and forced a half smile.

  “It’s okay,” Nathan added.

  Suella felt so drained of energy from the long flight and the cataclysmic shock that she fell into a deep sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.