“Well, it’s been seven months,” Rita says. “Isn’t that ridiculous?”
Mary Alice does not find this ridiculous. But, “Wow!” she says. And then, “I’m sure he’ll call you.”
“Oh, I hope so. And if he does, promise me you’ll stay with Einer? I don’t want to turn him down on the first date; I want to say yes to any night he proposes. Will you promise?”
“I promise,” Mary Alice says. It’s a pretty safe bet she won’t have any other plans.
FOUR
PETE DECKER HAS JUST CHEATED ON HIS MISTRESS WITH HIS wife, Nora. Now he sits at her kitchen table, watching her scramble eggs for him. Her ass shakes in that unattractive way that used to practically nauseate him, but now he sees it as comforting. And this woman knows how to scramble eggs, as opposed to Sandy, the woman he’s been living with for the last three and a half months. That one makes scrambled eggs that come out like hard little yellow balls. He dropped Sandy off at the day spa this morning so that she could have her stress relieved. Though what she has to be stressed about, he has no idea. All she does is read magazines and natter on to her girlfriends and watch The Housewives this and The Housewives that and shop. On his dime. What a terrible mistake he has made. His kids will hardly speak to him, his office mates talk behind his back, and he’s having an increasingly hard time getting it up. Never thought it would happen to him. Never! Not so young, anyway—he’s only fifty-nine! (Though he’s told Sandy he’s fifty.) His dad was sticking it to them when he was eighty—he got laid the day before he died!
Well, Pete’s not taking those damn boner pills. One reason is, he heard those things don’t always work; two, they can cause vision and hearing loss. Wouldn’t that just be perfect: he’d take a pill to amp up his sex life and end up with the trifecta of turnoffs. He’d be a limp-dicked guy, squinting into somebody’s face and yelling, “WHAT’s that?”
Another reason he’s not taking those pills is that it turns out Sandy’s not worth it. If only he’d known that she drew on her eyebrows and wore false eyelashes, that she went to bed with purple crap on her face every night, that the vacuousness he had initially found so charming—such a relief!—would so soon wear thin. He’d only been living with her for two weeks when she got lazy about her appearance. The truth is, Sandy is a slob and a slacker. If you suffer under the illusion that all women are natural-born housekeepers, well, just come over and have a look at their place. They’d probably get evicted if anyone ever saw the kitchen or the bathroom. Sandy is great-looking, no one can deny that. Built, too, oh, sweet Jesus, built! But a slob and a slacker and a bore. What a terrible mistake he has made.
Nora puts the eggs down in front of him, perfect, fluffy eggs accompanied by the kind of bread that’s good for you but tastes good anyway, and a little bowl of fresh fruit all cut up nice. “Thanks,” he says. “Sandy mostly gives me Pop-Tarts.”
“Well,” Nora says. “Her cooking is not why you moved in with her. And you know, you could try cooking yourself sometimes.”
It frustrates Pete, the way Nora defends Sandy, frustrates and mystifies him. He supposes it’s really a way of getting back at him, a way of saying You made your bed. But still, shouldn’t a wife be bitter and outraged about a mistress? Nothing’s working out the way he thought it would!
“How are the kids?” he asks. He can’t look at her when he asks this. It hurts too much.
“Didn’t Katie call you?”
“She might have; I haven’t looked yet today to see if I have any cellphone messages.” This is a lie; he has looked, he’s always looking, but his kids never call. If he wants to talk to them, he has to be the one to place the call. And then, when they show him the great honor of picking up, which is about one third of the time he calls, they make it plain they can’t wait to get off the phone. They treat him a little like he’s nuts. Which he guesses he was. But he’s not, anymore. He’s back.
“Huh!” Nora says. “She said she was going to call you yesterday.”
“Well, what is it? Is she okay? Is it something bad?”
“No, nothing bad,” Nora says, and then she smiles. “It’s really nice news, actually.”
“Nora. What is it?”
“I think I should let her tell you.”
“Is she…” Pete sits back in his chair. “She’s pregnant, isn’t she? Oh, man, is she pregnant?!” Their twenty-seven-year-old daughter has been trying to conceive for two years. Last Pete knew, she was going to wait a couple more months and then start in with a fertility doctor.
Again, Nora smiles, but says nothing.
“No kidding, she’s going to have a baby! That’s great news!” But then the fact of his daughter’s pregnancy suddenly slams into his brain and he realizes that if she’s a mother, he’ll be a grandfather. Him, a grandfather! Is he ready for that? An uncle, okay, but a grandfather? Is Nora okay with it? Is she ready to be a grandmother? Judging by her soft, pleased expression, he guesses she is. He forces himself to smile and says, “I’m going send her the biggest bouquet of flowers they can make. All… pink and blue!”
“Wait for her to tell you,” Nora says. “I don’t want her to think I betrayed her; she asked me not to say anything. She said she would tell you, and I’m sure she will, when she’s ready.”
Betray. He looks down at his eggs and takes another bite. “Thanks for making me breakfast, Nora. It’s really good. You know?” His throat is tight. What, now he’s going to cry? He bites down hard on his back molars, swallows away the feeling. “Thanks for everything.” Now he looks into her face and smiles. The woman may be thirty-five years older than Sandy, but she has her own eyebrows, for Christ’s sake. And her smile is still dynamite. And the sex he just had with her was almost like it was when they first started. What a mistake he has made.
“How are the boys?” he asks. Their older son, Pete Jr., is having problems with his wife, though he’s assured his mother he wants to work it out. He and his wife, Karen, are in therapy together. Pete himself has often said he’d never go to marriage counseling. But guess what? He’ll do it now. He’ll sit there and listen to all the bullshit and promise the moon. And deliver it.
Their younger son, Cal, is trying yet again to start up a business: selling boats, this time, God help him. Cal doesn’t know a thing about boats. But he says he’ll learn. Cal’s a happy, wildly optimistic soul; it takes a lot to make him feel bad or discouraged about anything. His wife, Sunny, is aptly named: she’ll go along with anything Cal wants to do. And her family mints money: if worse comes to worst, they can always get a loan from them.
“The boys are okay,” Nora says. “Pete and Karen are going to Paris.”
“Wow. So their problems are over.” Pete imagines his son and daughter-in-law cuddled together on a nighttime flight to Paris. Business class. Pete Jr. would no doubt fall for that upgrade bullshit when the truth is that an airplane seat is hell no matter where on the plane it is. Save your money for when you get where you’re going, is what Pete would like to tell him. But Paris, that’s nice, he guesses. Very romantic place, he’s heard. He should have taken Nora there, she always used to talk about wanting to go to Paris. But then she just gave up.
“No, their problems aren’t over,” Nora says. “They’re just trying really hard. They say they want to work it out, they want to try to stay together. It’s hard. But Cal! Cal is great! You won’t believe it, but in the last week, he got three orders for yachts. Big ones!”
“How in the hell did he do that?”
“Well, he’s got his father’s charm and he’s also connected to a lot of people that Sunny’s family knows. And you know how it is; even in a bad economy, the rich still spend money.”
Pete wipes up the last of his scrambled eggs with the last bite of toast. Perfect breakfast. “How are you fixed for funds?”
“I’m fine.”
“Why don’t I leave you a couple hundred?”
“I’m fine, Pete.” She leans in closer to him. “Pete? Listen, I… What w
e just did? I feel bad about it. And I think you need to tell Sandy that it happened.”
“Ah, jeez.”
“If you admit it—and I think it’s only fair that you do—you’ll get to some problems in your relationship that you obviously need to face up to. And I’m going to tell Fred, too.”
“You’re… Fred who?”
“Fred Preston.”
Pete can hardly contain his outrage. “You’re involved with Fred Preston?” The wimpy guy down the block. Widower. Always wearing a hat so he won’t get skin cancer. Runs every day in a jogging outfit.
“Yes, I am. I’ve been wanting to tell you.”
“Fred Preston?You are fucking shitting me!”
“Do you mind watching your language?”
“You’re kidding me.”
“He’s actually a very interesting man.”
Pete snorts. “Yeah, well, he’d better be. Not much else to recommend him.”
Nora stands and starts clearing the dishes. “Not true. I think he’s quite good-looking.”
“Oh, please.”
She turns from the sink to look over at him. “Well, you may not think so.”
“Oh, come on, Nora. You’re attracted to him?”
She raises an eyebrow, lifts one shoulder.
“And you’re going to tell him we had sex.”
“Yes, I am. I am interested in having a completely honest relationship, for a change. I’m going to say I had a little slip, but it won’t happen again.”
Pete lowers his voice to what he hopes is a sexy register. “Are you sure?” He wishes Nora would look at him. He has gorgeous turquoise eyes, god damn it.
She comes back to the table and sits down with him. “Pete. Listen to me. We’re done. I want to finalize the divorce.”
Her words actually take his breath away. They make for a deep pain right in the center of his chest.
He speaks rapidly. “But I’m getting out, Nora. I’m leaving her. I was just going to tell you that. You think I haven’t been regretting what I’ve done since the day I left? What we did here today… I understand something now.
“I want to come back. I’ll tell Sandy this afternoon and then, right afterward, I’ll pack my bags and come home. Let me come home, Nora. Everything will be so different, you’ll see. I didn’t mean all those things I said the day I left. How could I have meant those things? I was just frustrated about… I don’t know. About everything, I guess. But I didn’t mean those things, Nora! Please! Do you believe me?”
“Yes. I believe you.”
He closes his eyes, exhales. “Oh, God, thank you, honey. Thank you.” He can’t wait. He’ll pack just a few… No. Fuck it. He’ll leave everything in that crap condo Sandy couldn’t live without. He never wants to go back there again. Let her have everything. All he wants is to have his family back, that’s all he wants. Once again, he feels the burn of tears. “I want you to know, babe, that I—”
“Pete,” she says. “Don’t. I know you really meant what you just said. But I mean what I said, too. I’ll be your friend, we’ll co-parent the kids, but…” She shrugs. “It’s over. Such a silly word for such a serious thing, it seems like such a cliché to say it, so Roy Orbison. But it’s true. We’ve come to the end, there’s no going forward for you and me. And I’m not even… I’m not hurt anymore. I’m not bitter or angry. The kids are, but they’re working that out. And I’m trying to help them with it. This has been coming for a long time, Pete. I knew it was coming; you must have, too. I guess I had more time to get ready than I’d thought. In the back of my mind, I think I’d resigned myself long ago to our not staying together.
“Look, down the road, I can see us all having dinner together, you and Sandy, and me and Fred, and the kids… and the grandkids! Things will all work out. But, Pete, you have to listen to me, now. You have to hear me. I don’t want to live with you again. It wasn’t good for me, as it turns out. I’m happier now.” She sighs. “I’m sorry, pal.”
“Aw, Christ. Don’t call me ‘pal.’”
“I always call you that.”
“Yeah, but now it means something different.” He stares miserably at the table, where the sun has come through the window to illuminate his hands. They are clenched so tightly together his knuckles are white. He separates them and clears his throat. “Hey, Nora? Did you get the invitation to our fortieth high school reunion?”
“Yes. I threw it away.”
“You’re not going?”
“When have I ever gone to one of our reunions? I didn’t RSVP, but Pam will figure it out. Not that she was the brightest girl. Nice, though. And always so cheerful! She always said hi to you every time she passed you in the hall, remember? ‘Oh, hi!’ in that real excited way, even if she’d just seen you. She’d say hi and wave. Once she started to wave to me and she dropped all her books. I helped her pick them up and we bumped heads and it really hurt. And then we couldn’t stop laughing, we were just sitting on the floor and laughing and then we were late for class.” Nora shakes her head, smiling. “God. Pam Pottsman. I haven’t thought about her in years. Maybe I will call and tell her I’m not coming. I’ll catch up with her a little bit.”
“Don’t call!” Pete says, so loudly that Nora jumps.
“Sorry,” he says, and smashes down the hair at the back of his head, a nervous habit he hates. “Don’t call her,” he says again. “Or do call, but say you’re coming. Say you’re coming with me.”
“But I’m not coming with you!”
“Will you? Please? It’s the last one!”
“Pete. No.”
He gets up and stands before her. He holds her familiar face in his hands—oh, God, look at her. “Nora. I fucked up big-time. I know it. I fucked up for years. I’m sorry. I heard you, when you said we were done, I heard you, okay?”
She starts to respond and he talks over her. “No. No. Listen to me. We were married for a long time, Nora. A long time, you know? Why don’t you just think about going with me? That’s all I’m asking. Just think about it. I know it wouldn’t necessarily mean anything. But if you’d go with me, I’d be so—”
“Pete, I can’t. Fred and I are going on a trip that weekend.”
He can’t speak. He stares at her and feels again that terrible ripping sensation in his chest.
“We’re going to the Grand Canyon,” she says.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. The Grand Canyon. Which she’s already seen, she went with a couple of girlfriends not two years ago!
“You know what, Nora? I’ll take you to Paris. I will. No strings attached or anything. First class! You can have your own hotel room, if you want. If you need to. We can go—”
“Okay, Pete, enough. Listen, I made a mistake with you this morning, and I am fully prepared to take responsibility for it. I think you should do the same, though I recognize that it’s not really my business anymore what you do. But now let’s just move on. Let’s not see each other for a while. If anything with the kids comes up, I’ll tell you. Or, you know, anything else you really need to know about. But let’s not see each other for a while. Let’s look upon what happened today as a final goodbye, and get on with our lives. Okay?”
“Nora,” he says. “I’ll do whatever you want. I will. But let me just ask you something. And don’t answer yet! Don’t answer yet. I want to ask something very important.” He sees her mouth tighten and he says, “I’m going, Nora, but I just need to ask you this one thing.”
She crosses her arms, steps back. “What.”
“I want you to consider moving your trip with Fred to another weekend and going to the reunion with me.” If she does this, he’ll still have a chance to get her back. If not, his goose is cooked.
She starts to speak, and he holds up his hand. “No! Please, don’t answer yet! Come on, Nora, can’t I even…
“It’s just that it would mean so much to me. It really would. And also, I think if you do this for me… If you do this, then I can start letting you go. I know you want me
to let you go. I just want us to end on a pleasant note. You know?” He shudders, then, an autonomic response that humiliates him. He looks away from Nora, and when he turns back to her, he sees tears in her eyes.
“Okay, so I’ll take off,” he says. From the corner of his eye, he sees a fork still on the table. He retrieves it and hands it to her. “Here you go.”
“Thank you,” she says softly.
“Finally helping with the dishes, huh?”
She smiles.
“Do you… The lawn’s gotten long. Do you want me to mow it? I won’t come in after or anything. Nothing like that.”
“Pete,” she says. “Go home.”
I am home, he wants to say. But he’s not, anymore.
He walks out to the car on feet that seem to have become numb. Now what? Get some Viagra, he supposes. Then go home and screw the living daylights out of Spa Girl. That’s right. That will make him feel better. He climbs into his car, thinks about what he can try with Sandy that he hasn’t done yet. Then he rests his head against the steering wheel and stares down at the stupid tasseled loafers she talked him into buying. Nora looked at them when he flung them off before they went to bed, but she didn’t say anything. That’s what she does when she doesn’t like something. That’s what she used to do, anyway. Now she speaks up, at least about the important things. Well, so will he. He’ll call Pam Pottsman and he knows exactly what he’ll say, he can all but see the lines like they’re a script. He’ll say, “Hey, Pammy, how you doing, sweets?” Then she’ll blah blah blah. Then he’ll say, “Listen, I’m going to need another ticket for the reunion. Put me down for two instead of one. A little surprise for Nora, so don’t say a word.” He bets Pam will think that’s romantic. He bets she’ll flirt with him on the phone, too, just like she did last time. Any girl in their class would flirt with him, if she had the opportunity. Somebody like Pam Pottsman, that could be a trial. You didn’t want to be rude, but Jesus. Another kind of woman, though, that’s another story. Couple of months ago he ran into Beth Hillman at the airport in Detroit, for Christ’s sake, and she remembered him right away. He remembered her after a minute, too. Head cheerleader. They’d had a few sessions. Oh, yeah, they had. Bethie was a real blonde. At the airport, they’d gone to a bar and had a drink, had a real nice talk, too, no time for anything else, but if there had been time, he could have checked them into the adjoining hotel, no problem, he could tell; she was ready steady. “You know, you really haven’t changed a bit, Pete,” she’d said, and don’t think he didn’t know what that meant.