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“Ouch!” Aaron yelped.
That wasn’t good. She knew it had been a while, but Ouch wasn’t Baby, not so fast. Or even, Just use your hands, which would have been insulting but not appalling. No, Ouch meant she was a complete sexual failure. It meant she no longer had the capacity to navigate his body with the reckless abandon that used to drive him wild and render him incapable of all speech save a few grateful shouts of her name. It meant that she not only lacked passion, but she was also inept and inflicted pain, possibly because she was still harboring hostility over their breakup.
“What did I do?” she said, mustering up the courage to face her incompetence.
“You didn’t do anything. You’re amazing, but what the hell is this?” He pulled out the laminated copy of Prince Charming’s submission with a tack affixed to it from under his butt.
She quickly grabbed it out of his hand before he could decide to turn on the lights and read the offending weapon. Damn! She’d completely forgotten to take it down.
“It’s nothing,” she said, pushing the submission under the bed while still lying on top of him.
“Well, then, nothing just poked me in the ass. I think I’m bleeding.”
She rolled over as he did, and sure enough, the tack had punctured his skin, leaving a tiny trickle of blood that she was able to blot away before it hit the brand-new Calvin Klein sheets she’d bought and saved for a night like this. She tossed away the tissue and began kissing him with renewed confidence.
“So are you going to tell me what that was?”
“It’s a submission for the book.”
“Are all the pages going to stab the readers?”
“No, I...” She wondered what Evie would have told Marv. “I hung it up... as an example. To help me format the others.”
That response might not have worked so well if it had been a picture of George Clooney, but in this case, Aaron seemed satisfied to drop the investigation and began to unhook her bra. She was hoping that he wouldn’t immediately ask her how long she had breastfed. He couldn’t. He was a doctor. He’d taken an oath swearing he’d be tolerant and respectful, and besides, she was just a little pendulous. It wasn’t as if she had hairy nipples. She was banking on that attitude as her bra hit the floor.
Aaron seemed nothing but pleased as he drew her close to him for a deep kiss. The music continued to play random selections as the lavender-scented candles continued to sweeten the air, and the foreplay continued to give her time to question whether she was making the right decision. She wondered if it was possible to pick up the past and move it forward so quickly. He was still a great kisser, and each brush of his lips against her skin was telling her that this wasn’t such a bad idea. But if she was still able to think maybe she wasn’t really ready to submit.
Aaron was now on top of her, and this time, “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” was playing in the background, courtesy of the CD Aaron had chosen. She still wasn’t sure what she was feeling, but she’d decided she was ready to go with it regardless when a loud crash came from Dorie’s room. Fordham sprang up in an instant, threw on panties and a robe, and was heading out the door while Elton was proclaiming about rejecting the penthouse and embracing the plow.
Aaron jumped into his playful satin jock strap and grabbed a can of hair spray and a curling iron. Apparently, he was going to fend off the attacker by forcing him into an updo. She glanced at him quizzically, and he shrugged while pointing to his crotch as if to say Cut me some slack—I’m dressed like Ron Jeremy.
Fordham flung open Dorie’s bedroom door and immediately wished she was a fainter just to have some relief from a scene she had no interest in being part of. There was her mother, lying on the floor next to her collapsed bed, wearing a sheer hot-red teddy with a snap crotch, holding her ankle in her hands and moaning in pain. Abe, wearing green silk boxers, was at her side, trying to comfort her. They could have been posing for an X-rated Christmas card.
“Abe?” Fordham cried.
Dorie moved a little and let out a few shrieks.
“Now is not the time to discuss this, Fordham,” Abe said.
“We need ice,” Aaron said, examining Dorie’s ankle.
“Good idea,” Abe said.
“And a scarf,” Aaron added.
“Mine is hanging over my desk chair,” Fordham said.
Abe quickly exited the room as if claiming his own white horse, while Fordham kneeled next to Dorie.
“Mom, what happened? Not that I’m entirely sure I want to know.”
“That’s okay,” Dorie said. “I’m not entirely sure I want to tell you.”
“Fair enough.” A whooshing sound caught Fordham’s attention. “Do I hear water running?”
“Oh my God, the Jacuzzi!” Dorie said, panicking.
Fordham opened Dorie’s bathroom door to find the overflowing tub sending a storm of fragrant bubbles to the floor. She shut off the jets and released the stopper then gathered as many towels as she could find to hold the water back from the bedroom carpet. It was mostly working, but there was still some seepage, so Fordham whipped off her robe and deftly shaped it around the towels to create a stronger barrier.
“Well, I’ll be dammed,” she said, proud of herself for having completed her mission.
She marched back into the bedroom and watched as Aaron and Abe both tended to Dorie.
“What were you guys doing—reenacting Titanic?”
“Fordham!” Dorie said. “Where’s your robe?”
Abe’s eyes popped open, and he quickly bent his head in the opposite direction. Fordham glanced down at her bare breasts and decided that if everything happened for a reason, this was one for the books. “My robe is lying in a sea of love, saving your carpet.”
“I will get you for this,” Dorie said. “Go put something on.”
“Bennett or Sinatra?”
His gaze fixed on the floor, Abe said, “Fordham, be a good girl—listen to your mother, and put a nice shirt on.”
Fordham winced. Her boss, who she’d discovered was sleeping with her mother, had just politely admonished her. There was no time to emotionally process any of it, but at least her immediate thought had been practical. This was going to make one hell of a submission. She went to her room and threw on sweats and a tank top before returning to the excitement.
“I think it’s just a bad sprain, but it may be broken,” Aaron concluded, putting the finishing touches on Dorie’s makeshift brace.
“Dorie, I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Abe said, near tears.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Dorie said. “I should have never tried to... well, you know.”
“Oh, please don’t say anything else,” Fordham said.
“She needs an X-ray,” Aaron said as if clad in his usual suit and tie instead of a jockstrap.
“I am not going to the hospital like this,” Dorie said.
“Why? I made a diagnosis like this,” Aaron joked, pointing to his near nakedness.
“You could say you were in a lingerie fashion show, Dorie, and you took a tumble on the runway,” Abe said.
“And how did you come up with that, Abe?” Fordham asked.
“There’s a Cosmo in the bathroom.”
“Let’s get her to the car,” Aaron said, “before the swelling gets any worse.”
“You have to leave,” Dorie insisted, shaking her head.
“Who has to leave?” Abe asked.
“Both of you. Fordham is taking me. Alone.”
Neither Abe nor Aaron seemed happy about that decision.
“Guys, I wouldn’t bother arguing with her, or there’ll be another man overboard,” Fordham said.
Aaron and Abe found robes and helped Dorie to the car while Fordham got together a small bag of her mother’s things in case they decided to admit her. Needing a coat, she went to her room, where Elton was still singing, the candles were still flickering, and the linens were still in a confused heap. The moment had clearly passed. Fordham stood at the mirror, half expecting to catch a glimpse of the girl who would have been crushed by a night that ended up this way. But she was a woman now, and rolling with the punches was the rule, not the exception.
Fordham went to blow out the candles and noticed the submission peeking at her from under her bed. She hung it back up on the wall then went back outside, where Dorie, in too much pain to care, was still in the teddy but was at least wearing a coat over it. Abe and Aaron helped her get into the car. Fordham followed and tossed the bag into the back seat.
Fordham got behind the wheel and opened Dorie’s window for Abe.
“Dorie, are you sure you—” Abe was trying to ask her something, but Dorie seemed too embarrassed to listen.
“Thanks for everything. I’ll text you.” Fordham gave Aaron a peck on the cheek as he leaned down to her window.
“Please, just drive,” Dorie said to Fordham, who waved and slowly pulled away from the curb.
The silence was awkward though still a blessing. Fordham preferred not to have a conversation about everything that had happened after a night that apparently had begun on a hopeful note for both of them. But it was too quiet, and Fordham needed music to make it seem as if they were sharing an activity.
She flipped to Sirius XM Love and nearly skidded off the road when Celine Dion started singing “My Heart Will Go On.”
“Oh, Mom, listen—they’re playing your song.” She knew it was mean, but she couldn’t help herself.
“I am so glad you’re amused. But you must promise me you won’t say a word about this. To anyone.”
“Are you really going to plead the fornication fifth?”
“Fordham Ruth Price, I’m not kidding. I have a reputation to consider. If any of the girls from the Y Group find out about this, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“I’m kind of curious to hear the beginning of it, but I still don’t want to know.”
“Fordham, enough. Ugh, the ice is leaking.” She touched her seat. “Terrific. Now they’re going to think I’m incontinent.”
“Just flash them the nightie. That ought to shut everyone up.”
***
IT DID. FROM THE MOMENT she arrived until when she was released hours later, Dorie was revered as the most entertaining patient the Nyack Hospital emergency room had ever admitted. The nurses marveled at how amazing she looked and asked her where she’d bought her lingerie and makeup. And when she told the doctors her age, they didn’t believe her and said she must have had a head injury.
By the time she and Fordham left, Dorie had promised a host of nurses, doctors, janitors, and cafeteria staff members that she would set up a Facebook account and keep in touch. Luckily, her injury was just a sprained ligament, and in a few weeks, she’d be able to do the cha-cha with the best of them. Both Aaron and Abe had texted, but the signal was too weak for Fordham to respond. She’d get back to them later.
A new Dorie, brimming with affability and easiness, had emerged. Granted, she’d been a bit crotchety earlier, but Fordham had been unrelenting in her teasing. All things considered, Dorie had handled the situation well. A couple of drivers helped her get into the car, and Fordham drove home slowly, trying to avoid potholes.
Feeling particularly thankful she had no steps to navigate, Fordham got her mother into bed a little before dawn. Dorie was on enough pain medication to keep her knocked out for most of the day. Fordham set the vial of pills and a bottle of water on the night table and kissed her mother good night. She was already asleep.
Fordham got to her room and collapsed. She was exhausted from all the commotion and still thinking about her mother. She had seen a change in Dorie since the dinner party. She was glowing in a way that had nothing to do with Revlon, and she was calmer than usual. With no viable explanation, Fordham had assumed her mother was coming down with something. And now she knew the something was really a someone, and that someone was Abe. He was bringing Dorie back to life.
Fordham didn’t get much sleep before the phone rang. It was Whitty telling her that she was having a great time. She didn’t let on that she had completely forgotten that Whitty had slept over at David’s house. Exhaustion was not a viable excuse to duck out of parental responsibilities. Whitty had to get picked up, which meant Fordham had to get dressed. Despite her fatigue, she managed to find a presentable sweater to wear with her jeans. She even put on some makeup. If for some reason Pam was there, Fordham still wanted to be worth a glance or two.
There was very little traffic, which made driving with her eyes ready to close much safer. She opened her windows, hoping the air would force her to stay awake. The good news was that David’s house was nearby, and if Whitty was ready, Fordham could be home and back in bed before lunch. Aaron had off-Broadway tickets that he couldn’t exchange, and she promised him she would be awake enough to go. He’d been so helpful and patient. Keeping that date was the least she could do, considering she’d left him high and dry.
She turned onto David’s street and spotted a moving van next door to his house. The crew was carrying something large wrapped in a bunch of blankets and couldn’t quite get it up the small set of steps in front of the door. When it fell, she could hear the guys cursing in different languages. An obvious case of failure to communicate. She parked in front of the house and noticed there were no other cars around. David was most likely alone. Unless, of course, Pam had parked her bicycle around the back. Leave it to me to make a difficult morning even more vexatious.
Embracing her insanity, she knocked on the door, half expecting Pam to answer. David opened the door, and the smell of his cologne was intoxicating. There was no sign of Pam, and Fordham was flattered that David’s scent was all for her but then considered that it might be his typical routine or he might have other plans, in which case the cologne would have nothing to do with her. She hoped there was a direct correlation between her exhaustion and her irrationality.
“Sorry I’m late. I was at the hospital all night. My mother, uh, hurt her ankle.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. What happened?”
“If I tell you, I’ll be disowned, and I haven’t written down all her recipes yet.”
“Sounds intriguing, but I won’t pry. The girls are inside playing. Would you like a cup of coffee? I have...” He paused, coming to a realization. “A mug with your name on it!”
“You do?” She yawned.
“I do.”
Fordham followed David into the kitchen. It was a cheery room with butter-colored walls and tasteful white accents. There was a small center island that doubled as a breakfast bar. He pulled out a seat for her and brought over a basket of assorted mini muffins.
“Last night’s project,” David explained. “You didn’t tell me Whitty could bake.”
“I didn’t know. She makes cookies with my mother, but... she never ceases to surprise me,” Fordham said, feeling out of the loop.
She was a little bummed Whitty hadn’t come to greet her, but the rich aroma of the coffee kept her from being too overwrought. David went into a cabinet, took out a large stainless-steel Yankees tumbler and a Fordham University mug, and poured two coffees. Milk, sugar, and anything else one might want in coffee were on the counter. She and David sat opposite each other for what was turning out to be breakfast.
“See?” he said, setting the mug in front of her.
“Oh, funny. I have the same one. Did you go there?”
“My freshman year.”
“Really?” Fordham blurted. “My father was a professor there. That’s how I got the mug. He taught Shakespeare.”
“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?”
“Sweaty and dehydrated?”
“I’d say sweet and warm.”
Fordham could feel herself blush. “My mother was sitting in the front row of the classroom when my father recited that poem. She said she felt like—and I quote—‘the class disappeared, and he was speaking straight into my soul.’”
“She must have been a good student with that kind of connection.”
“She got an A, got pregnant, and got married. Whoops. I think I was supposed to say that the other way around.”
“Our secret,” David said.
“Anyway, when I was born, they decided to name me after the place it all happened.”
“Good thing they didn’t meet at the University of Buffalo.”
“You’re right.” She shot him a glance. “It’s grown on me over the years. It’s like having a metallic mango car. You’re always pretty sure it’s yours.”
“You certainly are unique,” David said in an alluring tone.
Fordham ignored the goose bumps his words produced on her arms. “By the way, great coffee.”
“Thanks. Great company.”
Their eyes met again in what Fordham could only interpret as a romantic glance.
“I should probably get Whitty and go.” She yawned. “I have theater tickets to an off-Broadway play, The Illusion of Confusion.”
“Sounds enlightening.”
Suddenly, there was a tremendous crash outside. Whitty and Lily screamed from another room as she and David ran to see what happened. They all ended up outside, where Fordham’s car was in a compromising position with the moving van and resembling something an organ grinder would play while a monkey danced.
“Girls, go back in the house,” David said as the driver approached them. Whitty and Lily happily ran inside.
“Sorry. I have a new driver,” explained a guy in a My Cousin Vinny sweatshirt. He had a thick Russian accent.
“I had a new windshield!” Fordham said, near tears.
David put his arm around her shoulder and led her to the car to survey the damage.
“Maybe now’s a good time to buy the wife a new car,” the guy said.
“We’re not married,” Fordham said, holding her head in her hands.
“This might be a good time to consider it,” the guy offered as he went back to his van to get business cards. “Hey, I’m really sorry. Call this number, and then call me.” David read the cards while the guy continued his plea. “I have people who can take care of this, and it won’t cost you a thing. I promise, and my word is golden. We can work this out.”
David checked with Fordham, who nodded.
“We’ll be in touch,” David said, taking Fordham’s hand and leading her back into the house. “The good news is no one was in the car when it happened.”
“I know.” She yawned a couple of times. “I’m sorry. I’m so exhausted. I was planning to sleep before going to the show.”
“So take a nap. I’ll call the service station and drive you home later.”
She was tempted, and Whitty would be thrilled... “I can’t do that,” she argued, still yawning.
“Why not?”
“Because. You’re Whitty’s principal. And you have a—” She was about to say girlfriend, but David interrupted her.
“You can have Lily’s bed or the guest room. Honestly, my bed is the most comfortable.”
“All right,” she agreed, “I can’t keep my eyes open.”
David took her to his room and came back with a blanket. Her eyes were closed, but she wasn’t asleep as David covered her with the comfy throw. Whitty and Lily must have come into the room, because he was telling them to be very quiet. “Your mom’s really tired, Whitty, so she decided to take a nap.”
The girls giggled something about Goldilocks and said they would play in Lily’s room. She could still smell David’s cologne as she drifted off to sleep.
***
FORDHAM WAS DREAMING. At least, she thought she was dreaming. A man in a dark suit was chasing her. He had dark piercing eyes and a leather briefcase and kept saying he would never forgive her. She let out a scream, and David rushed into the room. He held her protectively, promising she had nothing to worry about. Next thing she knew, she drew his face to hers and kissed him with the kind of fervor that made her moan. He told her no one was going to hurt her, and it was safe to sleep.
Fordham jumped up with a start. Nothing about the cozy room was familiar. She didn’t remember checking into a bed-and-breakfast. And then she remembered the dream. If it had been a dream. She wasn’t sure. She knew she was at David’s house and that her car had been crushed in a case of incompetence. David had spoken to the My Cousin Vinny moving guy about working something out. That was this morning, and now—she checked her phone—it was almost dinnertime. Aaron was expecting her to be ready to leave soon, and she wasn’t even home yet.
Fordham got up, and as she folded the velvety blue blanket David had covered her with, a small thong of the same color fell onto the floor. She recognized it immediately—the lacy thing dangling from Pam’s wrist at Messengers. If she left it there, David would know she’d seen it. Something made her shove it into her pocket.
She found David at his desk, listening to his iPod, his chair positioned to look out the window. “Hi,” she said, touching his arm. “Sorry to disturb you.”
“You’re not disturbing me. Are you okay?”
She wasn’t all that okay. Proof of David and Pam’s relationship was stashed over her right butt cheek, smothering her Dentyne.
“Yeah, thanks,” she said. “I can’t believe I just conked out like that.”
If she’d been dreaming and she’d kissed him in the throes of her angst, he would probably say something about it. Or not. There were panties floating around his room, so she couldn’t be sure what he would or wouldn’t disclose.
“I’m impressed you stayed awake as long as you did.” He didn’t offer the slightest hint about that kiss.
She decided to nudge him. “I feel like I was sleepwalking.” She paused, giving him a chance to comment. “I had so many dreams.”
“Well, you look none the worse for wear.” David glanced at a business card on his desk. “I spoke to the moving guys and had your car towed to Jose’s. It won’t cost you a dime, but it could take a week or so to fix.”
If anything had happened between them, David was clearly never going to share it.
“Thanks so much for taking care of everything.” Fordham stretched a bit. “Where are the girls?”
“Watching Frozen again. Should I make popcorn? I’m sure we could talk them into something else.”
“Sounds like fun, but I have to get home.”
The thought of Aaron waiting for her made her anxious. There was no denying she and David shared a certain kind of chemistry, but that didn’t mean they were meant to be together. And that thong probably meant he had great chemistry with Pam too. No, Aaron coming to town was destiny—bashert, as her late Aunt Fanny would say. This whole situation with David was probably just a test to see how she would stand up to the desires of the universe.
“Right, the show.” David hit his head with his palm. “I forgot.”
David got the girls into his Jeep in one take. Fordham usually had to ask Whitty three times before she would move at all. It was another case proving that familiarity bred contempt—or, at the very least, insubordination. Fordham wondered if having the camaraderie influenced Whitty to behave differently. She had to admit, her daughter did seem sisterly sitting in the back seat with Lily.
Being an only child had its perks, but it also had its disadvantages. Fordham had experienced the void growing up. Being alone meant there was no built-in playmate, no one close to her age who witnessed her life on a daily basis. What she had was hers to treasure or trash without argument or consequence. The result was quieter—though lonelier—days, and she often imagined how different her life might have been had a sibling been there to eat her candy or steal her toys or warn her when she was making foolish decisions.
David checked on the girls in his rearview mirror. They were engrossed in a TV show playing on Whitty’s tablet. “They get along really well. You should have seen them making those muffins last night. It’s amazing any chocolate chips got into the batter.”
“Sorry I missed it. In more ways than you could imagine. But I’m sure this is not how you wanted to spend your weekend, David.”
“You’re absolutely right. I wanted to cruise down to Bermuda. But I had to settle for laundry and Chuck E. Cheese’s. You ruined everything.” David patted her hand in just the right way to make it impossible to read.
“Well, then, I owe you chicken nuggets or something.”
“I’m just glad I could help. I feel terrible about your car.”
“Can you believe it?” Fordham said. “More broken glass.”
“More good luck.” David pulled into Fordham’s driveway.
It was late, and Aaron was outside, pacing. In the rearview mirror, Fordham caught Whitty grimacing. She suspected David had seen it as well. She jumped out of the car while Whitty thanked David and hugged Lily goodbye.
“What the hell happened? Where have you been?” Aaron demanded.
Aaron’s jealousy was not all that flattering after all. Fordham went to stand closer to him as Whitty exited the car and walked past him as if he were invisible.
“And who is he?” Aaron asked, pointing at David.
Fordham signaled David to open his window. “This is David Prince, Whitty’s principal. And this is his daughter, Lily. Whitty stayed at David’s house last night, remember?”
“You mentioned that, but what took all day?”
He sounded like her father, demanding an explanation for her misbehavior. That didn’t suit her at all. She dropped the thought before it could infect their evening.
“David, this is Aaron.”
David got out of the car and shook Aaron’s hand. Fordham was surprised at how easygoing he was. Then she reminded herself that there was no reason for him to be anxious. They were friends. And even though she’d slept in his bed, she’d been alone the whole time. Except for when she might have kissed him, which she still wasn’t sure had happened.
“When Fordham came to pick up Whitty, a moving van hit her car while she was in my house. It’s in the shop now,” David offered.
“Why no phone call?” Aaron asked Fordham.
She had to think about it. Maybe he had a valid reason to be upset. She’d never even tried to call him.
“There wasn’t much time between the car and the kids,” David said before Fordham could offer a reply.
He didn’t say anything about her nap. If nothing had happened, there’d have been no need for either of them to keep it a secret. The uncertainty was making her head swim, but considering how angry Aaron was, leaving out that piece of information seemed like a good idea.
“Well, then, thanks for taking care of my girl,” Aaron said, not coming across as all that appreciative.
Fordham noticed that he said “girl” and not “girls.” But then she considered the fact that Aaron didn’t really know Whitty all that well yet. It would take time for them to build a relationship.
“Fordie, the show starts in an hour. Can we just go, please?” Aaron said.
“Fine.” Fordham sighed, wishing he would give her time to change her clothes.
“I’m going to go,” David said as if he were a third wheel. “Lily’s getting hungry. Enjoy your show.”
He got into his car and glanced back at Fordham. She caught his eye as he pulled away and wondered if he was going to take Lily for chicken nuggets without her.