CHAPTER THREE

 

"Alan?" I repeated myself as he took the bottle from my hand.

He opened the bottle with a simple twist, brought it to his lips, and drank. Then I realized my mouth was still hanging open.

Alan James. Alan James, the first, serious love of my life, was sitting next to me, apparently in the same situation I was in. How bizarre.

"How long has it been?" Alan squinted at me, eyes adjusting to the lack of light.

"It…it must be about twenty years?" I stammered out a reply, sounding a little like an idiot. I wanted to slap myself, but feared that might look too strange. Alan pulled a chair out of his room and sat next to me.

"Twenty years…" he sat back in his chair and took another swallow. "I think you're right."

We sat together in silence for a few moments, not really knowing what to say. Our situation was so strange I guess we had to let it sink in for a moment.

Never being one to bear awkward silences well, I broke the fast of conversation. "So, your wife bailed on you and…"

"Yes. You too, eh?" He seemed to be just as surprised that I also ended up this way.

"Yeah. It's just me and the twins." I wondered if it really was possible to die of embarrassment.

"Twins? How old?"

Was he really interested? Or just making small talk?

"Clara and Rory are five. Yours?"

He smiled. "Alice is five; Jack is four."

Another silence. I struggled to recall the last time I saw him, but the memory was too hazy. Foggy images of a tavern near campus danced into view. I took another swallow of the beer to clear my head.

"And here we are, in the same predicament? Isn't that a bit strange?" I fumbled, not knowing what else to say.

He laughed. "A bit strange? Hell, I think it's the most unlikely thing in the world!"

I had to agree. In all honesty, I wasn't sure how I felt about it. If I hadn't changed rooms, would we have run into each other? "When did you arrive?"

"This morning. We were going to hit one of the parks, but the kids wanted to swim. You?"

"Just this evening." I motioned behind me. "They're asleep."

"Mine too." He looked at me again.

By now our eyes were more focused. An awkward silence hung between us. What would Letitia Baldrige say about my etiquette? How do you correctly greet a former lover? It's too late to shake hands, especially when you had once fitted more intimate body parts together.

Jumping up and hugging him would make me look like a drooling mental patient calling out for "Big Hugs!" Maybe it's more formal when you're older. I started to panic, because for a moment I entertained the idea of sticking a note on his dorm door. I had to think of something to say.

"You look great." Why did I say that? He looked amazing. Same thick, dark t hair, glowing green eyes and wicked smile.

He smiled, and I wondered if it was the first real smile he'd had all day. "You haven't aged a day."

Thank God it was dark or he'd see me blushing. A small stirring swirled in my stomach.

"Have you ever been here?" It was the only question I could think of.

"No. This was going to be our first real family trip in a long time." His shoulders drooped a little, and I remembered that this wasn't a happy trip for either of us.

"This is our first time too." And that's it. I was out of ideas. Another yawner like that, and he will be putty in my hands! (Insert sarcastic, maniacal laughter here.)

The silence was deafening. I wished for background noise…crickets…happy princess music…the Luftwaffe…anything.

"I have an idea." I spoke slowly, not even sure if I should say anything in light of the fact that my mind had abandoned me. "Why don't we take the kids together tomorrow?"

I avoided eye contact, feigning an unusual interest in my beer label and continued. "I mean, I'm not sure I can handle both kids alone, and they're the same age, and maybe between the two of us we could swing it."

My heart was pounding madly. Why did I do that? There would be nothing more terrible than to be rejected again by the boy who rejected me all those years ago. But then again, it did make sense, and we're forty, not twenty. Honestly! I can be so immature sometimes.

"That is an excellent idea." He pronounced each word slowly, as if the further along in the sentence he went, the more his own words convinced him.

We set a time to meet up in the morning and went into our rooms. Once the door closed behind me, I sagged against it. Alan. Sweet Alan.

I stayed up half the night trying to calculate the odds that something like this would happen, but I never was any good at math. This was the stuff of romance novels, not real life. Romance novels? Why did I associate this with romance? Because, you dumbass, you once loved him as if nothing else existed on earth. And he broke your heart.

But we were kids. We didn't know what we were doing, I told myself. But you did love him. And you were lovers. Memories from long ago came flooding back.

 

*  *  *

 

"Do you think we will always be together?" We had just finished making love in a car I borrowed from my roommate. It was cold outside so we left the car running. We always parked in this neglected cornfield. No one ever stumbled upon us.

"Of course we will," he replied. "We are supposed to be together."

I sighed happily, my head resting on his bare chest, content with the chill silence that enveloped the car. Alan stroked my hair very gently and began to tell me what our life would be like together after graduation as I dozed off dreamily, not a care in the world.

 

*  *  *

 

"MOMMY!" Clara's cry nearly ruptured my eardrums, and I leaped out of bed.

"What? What is it?" I stumbled to gain my mental and physical balance, still half asleep. A sliver of daylight pierced the curtains, and I started to remember where I was.

"It's TODAY! We have to get ready!" Clara pleaded. Rory started to run in circles with glee, shrieking those words over and over.

I brushed my teeth and staggered into the shower, keeping it as brief as possible. As I stepped out onto the mat, I became aware of a banging noise coming from outside the bathroom. Holding a towel loosely in front of me, I opened the door and prepared to yell at my offspring.

Alan was standing in the room, an amused, yet embarrassed look on his face. Apparently, we had adjoining rooms. Apparently, my lovely children had let a complete stranger in. Apparently, I was barely wearing a bath towel.

"Um, pardon the interruption. I just thought…" he stumbled through his words. He pointed to his watch. "Um, it's nine."

"So it is. I don't seem to be wearing my watch." I pulled the towel against me.

"You don't seem to be wearing much of anything," he said with an amused smile. "I'll just go back to my room and give you a few minutes?" He left before I could respond.

Great. Just great. I looked down at the two cherubic faces before me. "Thanks, kidlets."

"You're welcome Mommy!" was their unison cry. Fabulous. Obviously I didn't need to worry about what to wear. It took only a few moments to get everyone dressed and out the door. Somehow I didn't think I was off to a great start.

Alan and his children were waiting for us. Seeing him in the daylight added more jitters. Both of us had gained a few wrinkles and pounds over the years, but he looked better than I expected. In fact, he looked great. His skin even glowed, if you can believe that. I ran my right hand nervously through my hair.

"You look great. I was right last night—you haven't aged a day."

He had obviously missed something. My hair was much shorter, a different color, and my body a little ravaged by giving birth twice in one hour. Was this all bullshit so he could have a second adult along?

"Thanks. You look good too." Okay, so I'm not Oscar Wilde.

Alan actually blushed. "You know, I still can't believe this happened."

I nodded in agreement, and then noticed four pairs of eyes staring at us in silence.

"Oh! This is Clara and Rory!" My kids smiled at hearing their names. They looked expectantly at Alice and Jack. Alan floundered out an introduction. Apparently, we were both a bit stunned. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

The kids seemed hesitant, but I figured they would enjoy each others' company. Homesick pangs hit my stomach. After all, I hadn't seen this man in a long, long time. We didn't necessarily end things on good terms, as I recalled. And our relationship was a mere two years, barely the length of a moment when compared to the thirteen years I'd been married.

Still, I was happy not to be alone on this trip. Another adult would make things easier…right?

We headed for the food court to eat breakfast. Alan and I fell naturally into our usual parenting roles, one watching all four kids while the other navigated the choices available for food.

By the time we got on the bus, the kids had warmed up to each other, splitting evenly with the boys-versus-girls idea. Alan smiled when the girls started comparing their favorite princesses and the boys compared toys they had at home. It occurred to me that I never thought I'd ever see him in this role. And it was just as likely that the idea of me with kids seemed foreign to him.

"Your children are lovely." An older, beetle-faced woman sat on the other side of the aisle, admiring the four, playing happily. I felt the heat rising in my cheeks. What should I say?

I felt Alan's arm slide around my shoulders. "Thank you," he responded amiably, "we're pretty proud of them." Miss Beetle nodded and smiled, then turned her attention back to the window.

"Thank you?" I whispered as he removed his arm.

"Isn't that better than spending twenty minutes explaining something no one in their right mind would believe?"

The bus came to a stop, and we disembarked, corralling four squealing kids. "Why wouldn't they believe it? It happened this way, didn't it?"

"Well," he said as he turned to me, "I still don't believe it. Do you?" He had me there.

We kept walking. Alice and Clara danced ahead of us. He's right, I thought, it was too bizarre. Still, it was too late to turn back. We were at the gates of the park, two strangers who were once lovers, together with their kids. I had sincere doubts that they made soap opera plots this twisted. Once again, I wondered what would've happened if we hadn't changed our room.

But all of those thoughts abandoned me as I stood, open-mouthed, in front of the place I'd dreamed about for a long, long time. It's hard to put into words the way I felt, walking through the gates of paradise. All of the colors, sounds, smells blurred into a haze of pleasure. I actually felt all of my stress slipping away, replaced with mindless happiness. Giddiness formed a bubble in my gut, rising through my throat. Wow. If they bottled and marketed this stuff, they'd make millions.

Music from my childhood danced in the breeze. The smell of popcorn and candy (probably laced with pheromones) filled the air.

I'd never seen anything like this, and I knew right then and there, I never wanted to leave. We were surrounded by families of all ages and colors. From the looks on their faces, I could tell they were hypnotized too. I was head-over-heels in love. With a place. With a commercial enterprise. And I didn't care.

For a fleeting moment, I remembered that this feeling of euphoria was supposed to be for all of us—Mike included. Clara and Rory squealed with delight, and I mentally echoed their sentiment. If only that bastard was here.

Okay, I could be miserable and think of what could have been, or I could just enjoy myself. I snapped out of it to see the same look on Alan's face. Was he thinking the same thing? Wishing Susan was here to experience this with him and the kids?

We didn't have much opportunity to speak throughout the morning. The kids had us on a whirlwind tour. Clara had to go on every ride seven consecutive times; Rory and Jack pined for adventure. Alice was determined to stalk all of the princesses. Several times, I noticed Alan staring at me with what I suspected was curiosity. I found myself studying him when he wasn't looking.

Over the years, when I'd thought of him, I'd only seen him as a twenty-year-old boy. He had never grown up in my mind, even though I had. On occasion, I would imagine running into him, but all I could eke out of my imagination was a Mrs. Robinson scenario. It was like being with someone I had never met, but knew an awful lot about. Some of the old familiar mannerisms were there, but they were vague, blurred by years of aging. I liked what I saw, but I didn't really recognize this man. There was something subtly erotic about that.

"How about a nap?" I asked, feeling more like Mommy Dearest instead of Mommy-Knows-Best.

The kids groaned in horror, but according to all the guidebooks I'd consumed in the last two years, they'd never make it to the fireworks at night if we didn't take a break. Every plea in the book was hurled at me by begging eyes. And in all honesty, I didn't want to leave either. But it would be stupid to let the kids know that.

Standing behind them all, Alan nodded vigorously in agreement with my suggestion, "She's right. Let's go guys!" The butterflies dive-bombed my stomach.

The bus ride back to the hotel was quiet. The girls chatted in the seat in front of us while the boys nodded off in our laps. We managed to rouse them briefly back at the hotel. They stayed awake long enough to eat a peanut-butter sandwich, but soon all four passed out on the two beds in my room.

Alan and I wordlessly dragged two chairs outside. As the door closed, I realized that it was not my husband I was sitting outside with. And that meant that there would be actual conversation.

"You know," he ventured, "I think that went well."

"It's funny, but it seemed somewhat natural. Maybe since we are both parents we just fell into it." Damn it was hot. I could feel the tingle of perspiration springing from my armpits.

Alan looked at me for a moment. I couldn't read his expression. His fingers tapped absently on his pop can.

"Alan?"

"Yes?"

"I'm not that uncomfortable with you, but I am nervous. Can we just forget that this is awkward and pretend we are old friends who are totally at ease with each other?" It sounded ridiculous, but it was worth a try. What did we have to lose?

He laughed. He actually laughed and I relaxed. "That is a great idea. I don't want this to be weird. But where do we start?"

"Well, we have a few hours, so how about the beginning?" Ooh. That was two clichés short of cool. Oh well. Maybe we could breach this divide by filling in our backgrounds.

Alan's smile used to make me weak in the knees. He had one of those broad grins that lights up a room. His smile made things seem easier. "You first?"

"Alright." Sure, I could go first. I mean, how hard is that?

"Okay, well, I teach contemporary literature at Barrymore College." That's right. Clit., if you looked at the abbreviation on my office door. The freshmen really get a kick out of it. I groaned inwardly and continued, "Mike is a partner in an ad agency and travels a lot. I'm taking a sabbatical now to finish my dissertation and so I can spend more time with the kids."

"What about your poetry?" Slam. I didn't see that one coming.

"I don't do much with it—haven't for years." Flickers of memories flashed through my brain. I used to read him my poetry. Few people knew I ever had a passion for it. He was one of them. I couldn't believe he remembered.

"Actually, the only writing I do now is on my doctorate thesis. Once I'm done with that, I'll have my PhD and make tenure." I didn't want to talk to him about that, so I turned the conversation around. "What about you?"

Alan eased back in the chair, propping his feet up on the railing. He had been a jock in college. His legs were still in great shape.

"Did you ever try to look me up?" He asked. Why did he ask that? Of course I had. I just didn't want him to know. His eyes seemed to know what I was thinking.

I shifted in my seat. These chairs weren't actually made for lounging. "I knew you moved to New York and got married." This part would be hard to admit, but fair is fair, "I know your plays are doing well off-Broadway and that you have raised a few eyebrows in the industry."

He looked at me, smiling cautiously. "You've seen my website, then?"

I nodded guiltily. Every now and then I would look him up. Nothing big. It certainly doesn't qualify me for my stalker merit badge.

"I'm flattered," he spoke quietly, looking at the floor. "I would have checked out your website, if you had one."

I let out a breath. Perhaps we are the only ones in this hotel. Maybe we didn't even notice anyone else. The strangeness was still there, but so was an odd sense of ease. I was actually in the company of a man who was interested in what I had to say. What a contrast to my normal, daily life.

"Well, I have little to add to that." His tone seemed more serious. "Susan is an attorney. She used to work to support me and the kids until I hit the big time, but I think she really likes it now. We haven't had the best year."

It was an awkward gesture, but I patted him on the back. "Us too. Mike has never missed a day of work when the kids are sick. He used to say he would never miss a birthday, but this summer we rescheduled the twins' party from their birth date so he could attend. I don't see this trend letting up anytime soon." I didn't mention the affairs. It didn't seem like the right time.

"How do you deal with that?" Good God. I hope he wasn't asking for advice! My record to date for handling such situations was pathetic.

"I cry, scream, threaten, feel bad…not the most mature way of handling things." I checked his response before continuing. After all, I wanted to cut through the bullshit, so I might as well be honest. "If you have a solution, please share it with me because I've run out of ideas…especially with this trip."

"Oh hell," he smiled as he replied, "I was hoping you had some magic wand that would make them see how they are really acting! Damn. There goes all hope."

I couldn't help but laugh. Someone else had the same problem I did and didn't have a better solution. That was something, at least.

"You know what, Alan? I feel better already."

"You know what, Laura? Me too." Laughter again. This might work out okay. At least we wouldn't be too uncomfortable. We had the past in common. And we had this circumstance in common. This might even be fun.

"Have you heard from Mike?" He sort of winced as he asked, in case the question was too delicate.

I shook my head. "Did you hear from Susan since last night?"

"No. And I have a wicked idea." Damn that dazzling smile. You aren't twenty anymore, I reminded myself. You have the force field of maturity to protect you from his boyish charms.

"What is it?"

"Well, first of all," he began, "we don't call them." I nodded in agreement, it sounded good so far. "Secondly, we tell them everything is just fine and we are having a great time."

"You mean we won't tell them that we've met, or that we are hanging out together?" It seemed a little deceptive, and I liked it immediately.

"No, we tell them nothing. We just take a lot of photos of all six of us together, smiling, etc. We get them printed out  before we go back. Then just hand them the pictures." He grinned triumphantly. It seemed petty and a little mean. And I was all for it.

"Deal!" I liked this idea. There was some kind of poetic justice in it.

Alan extended his hand, and I shook it decisively. This might be a good trip after all.