Chapter 26

Ariel

I tugged at the hem of my dress, trying to get it to cover more of my thighs. “I’m not sure this dress was a good idea,” I said to Justine, who had set up camp in our bathroom and was fussing over herself like a beauty-pageant contestant. I studied myself in the full-length mirror, arching my eyebrows with a surprised look, pouting, making kissing noises, faking laughing. Glancing over my shoulder to make sure Justine wasn’t watching, I attempted a dance move. I wondered if I looked beautiful or … ridiculous, a middle-aged woman trying too hard. Justine had talked me into a red minidress I would never have bought without her salesmanship. I justified the purchase because (a) it was on sale and (b) I planned to wear it out to dinner with David for our anniversary in another month. If I had the guts, that is. The more I wore the dress, the more I realized that it wouldn’t exactly fit in a suburban scene.

Justine came out of the bathroom looking stunning in a black minidress that showed off her tan and her legs. “Ooh la la!” I said with a soft whistle. “The exercise is really paying off,” I added, pointing at her legs. I aimed my camera in her direction and took a few shots of her before she could pose.

She grimaced at me and waved the camera away. “You really think so?”

“Yup. You look gorgeous.”

She looked over at me and gave a nod of approval. “You look gorgeous too.”

I groaned and pulled at the hem of my dress again. “I feel ridiculous.” At least I was tanner than I had been at the summer-kickoff party. There was that.

She walked over and stood beside me in the mirror. We took in our reflections. “We are two hot chicks,” she said and bumped me with her hip, grinning. I wondered what she was like as a teenager, if we would have been friends then. “You are beautiful, Ariel. Don’t let anyone tell you any different. Just because you’re a mom doesn’t mean you can’t be stunning.”

“I know, but—”

She put her hand up. “No buts.” She giggled. “Speaking of butts, does mine look big?” She turned around and craned her head to see her behind in the mirror.

“Trust me,” I told her and patted her arm. “Your butt looks fantastic. Mark would be all over you.”

She snickered. “I don’t know about that. Now … let’s go salsa!”

The noise of the club was vibrating in my head after two hours of exposure to bass so hammering I felt like my teeth were coming loose from their sockets. I watched as Justine danced with yet another man. She had moved from man to man all night, bumping and grinding like a seasoned salsa-dancing pro. The short lesson at the beginning of the night had been all she needed to get started—the rest she seemed to improvise in the heat of the moment. Of course, the lesson did nothing to make me any smoother than a robot, so after a short while of pretending to enjoy myself on the dance floor, I finally resigned myself to being lame and stepped off to the side. I wished I hadn’t left my camera back at the condo. At least I would’ve been entertained by taking pictures. Somehow, though, I had the feeling that Justine didn’t want this night recorded.

The longer the night went on, the more impatient I became. This was not, as I had suspected, my idea of a happy getaway. Once again, I found myself questioning my devotion to Justine. I cared for her, but the constant reminders of how different we were had started to wear. I pulled my cell phone from my purse and texted David. “Salsa dancing with Justine,” I typed in. “Supposed to be fun. But I just want to go home.”

I looked up to see Justine searching the perimeter. When she caught my eyes, a broad, happy smile crossed her face. In that moment I realized it: I was her home base. Her safety net. She needed me. With pride, I smiled back and gave a playful little hip shake. So what if she wanted to escape for an evening. It was only dancing. It was harmless.

My phone vibrated. David had written back. “Wish I was there to do a little dirty dancing with you.”

My skin became prickly. “Me, too,” I typed, smiling broadly. I tucked the phone back into my purse.

I returned my gaze to the dance floor when a man—handsome, young—approached me. “You have a beautiful smile,” he said.

“Thank you,” I replied, looking away. No sense in encouraging him.

“Wanna dance?” He pointed to the dance floor.

“No, thanks,” I said. I didn’t want to shoot him down. I pointed down at my feet, hoping he noticed the diamond on my left hand as I did. “My feet are killing me.” It wasn’t a lie. The strappy high-heeled sandals that Justine had talked me into that afternoon on our shopping spree looked much better than they felt. I looked at the door. I yawned and covered my mouth. I was every bit the middle-aged mom I was pretending not to be.

He smiled at me. “I’m with you. I’m not really into these places,” he said, probably in response to my yawn. He gestured at the dance floor. “I was dragged here by some friends.” I noticed he did not wear a ring. “Can I at least buy you a drink?” he asked.

I intended to turn him down, so I was surprised when the word “Sure” came out of my mouth. This was a night for doing things out of character, right? He walked me over to the bar, putting his hand on the small of my back as he did. I held my breath, partly mortified that another man’s hand was on my back, partly relishing the attention, if only for a moment. I moved slightly out of his reach and waited as he ordered me a glass of wine. I had had one earlier in the evening but could justify one more.

I looked around for Justine but couldn’t find her. I knew now that if she needed me, she’d find me. When my nameless acquaintance pointed to the patio door, I followed willingly, happy to get some relief from the noise and crowd.

He set the drinks down on a patio table and took a seat. He was very handsome, far from the cheesy sort I imagined would frequent a Myrtle Beach salsa club. He ran his hands through his hair, a shock of it falling into his eye. He looked at me shyly from behind it, like a little boy caught doing something he shouldn’t. His eyes were blue. David’s were green. His hair was a dirty blonde. David’s was jet black. He voluntarily came to salsa-dancing clubs, even if he wouldn’t willingly admit it. David would have to be tied and dragged.

He raised his glass to me. “Cheers,” he said. I clinked it with him and sipped. “My name’s Brian, by the way.”

“Hi, Brian. I’m Ariel.” He extended his hand, and I shook it from across the table. He held it for a bit too long.

He turned my hand over, stared at my wedding ring. “What’s that?”

“What do you think it is?” I smiled.

He dropped my hand and held his own to his chest like he was appalled. “You’re married?” he gasped, feigning shock.

I giggled. “Yes. I assumed you knew.”

He held his hands up. “I had a feeling,” he admitted. “Figured I’d get it out of the way before we went any further. Give you a chance to confess.”

“Confess?” I asked.

“Yes. You’ve been dying to clear the air. I get that.”

I bit my lip and looked away. I was more transparent than I thought. The red dress wasn’t fooling anyone. You could take the wife out of the house but not the house out of the wife. I held up my hands. “You got me. I am not as mysterious as I thought.”

He looked at me seriously across the table for a moment. “There’s nothing wrong with being transparent. Or loyal.” He took a sip of his drink. “I wish more women were.” He smiled, shrugged. “I was supposed to be getting married next week. She called it off. Found someone else.” He shrugged as though he wasn’t hurt. “That’s why my buddies dragged me here. They’re all inside having a blast. Thought it would get my mind off my troubles.”

“Instead you’re out here talking to me, a married woman.”

He held up his hands. “You seemed safe. Safe is good for me right now.”

I tried not to feel hurt. What did I care if this guy chose me to hide out with? I was married, and in reality, I had no business being there at all. I wished for the ability to teleport myself back home to my bed with David snoring softly beside me and my three boys tucked into their beds down the hall.

“You just looked like a nice person,” he added, not making it any better.

“The red dress didn’t throw you off?” I teased.

“It was in your eyes,” he said. “You’re a nice person. You care about people. Sometimes too much?”

I thought of Justine dancing inside with total strangers, drinking and behaving in a way I was having a hard time justifying. “Yes, sometimes too much. I guess I just want to believe the best about people.”

“Trust me,” he said, “it can burn you sometimes.” He raised his glass, and I raised my own. “To seeing people for who they are and not who we wish they were.” As our glasses clinked, a cold shiver ran down my spine. Justine had emerged from the club, a fine coating of sweat making her skin glisten. She caught my eye and smiled, gave me an approving thumbs-up. I shook my head. She had it wrong.

“Will you wait here?” I asked. “I need to speak to my friend,” I said, rising before he could answer. I walked quickly over to Justine, my bare feet on the warm patio bricks, the painful stilettos still under the table where I had kicked them off.

She pointed at my feet. “Aren’t we cozy?”

“No. Not cozy. In pain,” I said. “But definitely not cozy with that guy. He just broke up with his fiancée. Wanted to talk with someone ‘safe.’” I gave her a mock-pathetic smile, but secretly I was hoping she’d follow my lead and keep her interactions with these men nice and safe.

But she just waved my explanation away. “I’m not here to judge,” she said. “Listen, I am going to go on to another club with some people I met. Can you just take a taxi back to the condo?” She dropped a key into my hand and smiled. “Don’t wait up,” she said and giggled like a college girl who club-hopped every weekend instead of a mom of two who presided over our neighborhood back home.

Whoa. This was nowhere near safe. But before I could ask any questions, suggest coming along, or argue, she flitted back inside the club and was swallowed up by the crowd. Shocked and flustered, I couldn’t seem to hatch any plan except to do as Justine had suggested. I turned back to the table to collect my shoes, say good-bye to Brian, and go hail a cab. As I reached the table, I realized that I didn’t have enough cash to get home. I sat down and shook my head. So much for being Justine’s safety net.

“What?” he asked, clearly sensing my anxiety.

“My friend, she … just left me here,” I confessed. “And I’m not sure how I’m going to get back.” I lifted my hands, unable to stop the whine that escaped. “I don’t have enough cash to get a cab.” I put my forehead on the table as if he wasn’t there at all and wished again that I was home. What had possessed me to go on this stupid trip anyway?

Brian reached in his wallet and pulled out money. “Here,” he said. “This should be enough.”

I looked at him in shock. “No, no … I didn’t mean … I can’t—”

“You were nice to me. You helped me pass a few minutes of this ridiculous outing. So keep it. As a thank-you.”

I took the money. “If I wasn’t desperate at the moment I would argue with you.”

“How many kids do you have?” he asked out of the blue.

“Kids? Is it that obvious?” Was it my childbearing hips? The permanent worry lines between my brows? The outdated haircut? I knew it wasn’t the red dress or stiletto heels that gave me away.

“Moms just have a certain look to them. You can just tell. Motherhood seems to … change a woman.”

I smiled. He was right. “Fair enough. I have three boys.” I smiled, then rose from the table, bone tired. It was way past my bedtime.

He stood with me. “I’ll walk with you.” He fell into step beside me as we made our way out to the curb, where an assortment of cabs idled, waiting for those who had imbibed too much to drive. I stuck my head in the window of one of them and gave the driver the address of the condo, then looked back at Brian.

I extended my hand to him once more. “It was nice to meet you,” I said.

He held my hand for a moment too long, and I knew that—if I wanted it—things could go a different direction. With one word he would be in the cab with me headed to the condo. With one word my entire life could change. Seeing the look on my face, he kissed my cheek, his lips as momentary as butterfly wings grazing my skin. “Go home,” he said. “You’re one of the good ones.” He laughed. “Thank you.”

“For what?” I asked. He was the one paying for my cab fare.

“For proving that good ones still exist.” He waited for me to get into the cab and shut the door behind me. I watched him through the window until he faded from sight, then leaned my head back and closed my eyes until the cab pulled up to the condo. I opened my hand and looked down at the folded bills Brian had put in it. He had tucked his business card in with the money. I squinted at it under the dome light and smiled. I paid the driver with Brian’s money and left his card on the seat of the taxi. When I got inside the house, I sat down and called Justine, wanting to tell her what had happened and find out when she’d be back. But she didn’t answer. Then or the other times I tried before I finally fell asleep, the phone in my hand.