CHAPTER FIFTEEN

 

I couldn't sleep. For an hour, I moved around the room like a condemned creature moments away from execution. Several times, I paused, about to knock on the adjoining door, but I didn't know what to say if Alan answered.

Over and over I turned my thoughts around. Everything felt upside down and inside out. My heart and head were not speaking to each other. I had no idea what I wanted anymore.

Desperation drove me back to the door again and again, but how could I explain something I didn't even understand? I really appeared guilty. And unlike my literary adulteresses, I was ten times worse. I had not only had an affair with Alan, but also with Nick. It was only too easy for me to jump into another man's bed and think I was falling in love with them. Either I was incredibly selfish or unbelievably naïve. The worst thing was that Alan knew about Nick and now he thought I had done the same thing with Terry. In his mind I was nothing more than a fickle, serial slut.

And what frightened me more than losing Mike and Alan was the idea that I might actually be a repeat offender. I slumped to the bed and fell back onto the mattress. My God. Why wouldn't Alan think I'd cheat on anyone, given the opportunity? At least Anna, Hester, and Lady Chatterley only had one illicit lover. Apparently, I was running up a tab.

My mind rewound to a conversation Alan and I had the second or third night. Something about me being a sex kitten and every man sensing that. Apparently he was right, and obviously any man who leered at me wound up between my legs. Now I was feeling worse.

My thesis on adultery popped into my head. They'd have to sew two enormous red A's on me now. At least that was better than Anna Karenina's suicide. I began to wonder how one would commit suicide at a theme park. Throw myself in front of the miniature train? Jump from the roller coaster? Climb out of the jeep at the safari ride and hope the lions are hungry?

I forced the thought from my mind. After all, there were only two men I'd cheated on my husband with. I was reaching for the life preserver that would pull me out of the whirlpool of my own self loathing. I sat up and spied the hotel notepad on the nightstand and wrote, I am not a slut, until I filled up a whole page. For some weird reason, I felt better. I flipped the first page over and did what any sane person would do under these circumstances. I made a Pro's and Con's list.

I have always been a proponent of the Pro's and Con's list. The device had helped me make decisions for years. It's kind of the grown-up's version of the cootie catcher, Magic 8 Ball, or Ouija Board. I had to focus on the most important matter—whether or not to leave Mike. The key to the success of the Pro's and Con's list is to eventually destroy the evidence. It would not do to leave it lying around. Then it looks too pre-meditated.

So, I dragged a chair outside and took a deep breath. At the top of the tiny piece of paper I wrote: Stay with Mike and Leave Mike. Two columns. I began numbering.

On the next page, I wrote: Stay with Alan and Leave Alan. It seemed very important to distinguish between these two things. After all, I could end up leaving both men completely. For a moment I entertained the notion of becoming a lesbian and getting out of this entirely. But that would be impossible. There was no room for a third column.

Flipping the first page back, I pressed the pencil to the paper and began to write. It took another hour. I was thankful the kids still slept because the words poured from me. A few times, tears blurred my vision, but I continued. I had no idea if what I was writing had continuity; it just came out on its own. I filled ten pages with my thoughts (Of course, this is easy to do on paper that measures four inches by six inches.) before the door to my right opened.

Alan pulled up a chair, "Hey."

"Hey," I said weakly.

He looked at the pencil and paper in my hand and smiled. "Pro's and Con's?"

"I forgot that you knew that."

He nodded. "You did it all the time. I think it helped you, so I never said anything." To his credit, Alan looked at me, not the paper. "Did it help?"

"Alan, I wasn't lying to you."

"I know that. I was pretty hard on you."

I could feel the tears burning the back of my throat, but I wouldn't let them through, "Not really. I know how it all must have looked."

For a moment, he looked away. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"Are you ready to listen?" I tried hard not to sound snide.

Alan returned his eyes to mine. "I am."

Slowly, I took a deep breath. "Ok. As I said, Terry called me." I waited for Alan to respond. I wouldn't say one more word if he didn't agree. He nodded and I continued, "He's been following us since that night at the House of Blues. He saw us in the park, and he saw me faint. Terry asked me if I was having an affair."

Alan nodded, but his face darkened. Perhaps he could see what was coming.

"Anyway, he asked if I needed someone to talk to about it, and, like an idiot, I said yes."

"I knew this was bothering you. I should've listened."

"Alan, aren't you conflicted about this too?" How could I be the only one who was confused?

"Sure I am. But I know where I want this to end."

"You do?" I thought my heart had stopped. Could I handle it if he said he wanted to run off with me? Worse yet, could I handle it if he said he wanted to go home and pretend like nothing had ever happened?

"Yes. I…"

I cut him off, "I don't want to know right now." Alan frowned. "First we have to resolve this issue. Let me finish the story."

I waited for him to nod, then began again. "It was Terry's idea to go on the bike ride. He was just outside the door. I guess he had been waiting there when he called me." Alan's eyes turned darker, like a murky, brackish green.

"Again, like an idiot, I climbed onto his bike, and off we went. I should've said 'no,' but I didn't."

"Where did he take you?"

Did I detect concern or anger in his voice? "The lake where we went that first night. He had a blanket in his saddlebag, and we sat down, and I told him some of the story."

"What, exactly, did you tell him?" Alan said the words slowly, as if he was preparing to yell at me again.

"I left out the juicy stuff. I told him I didn't think I loved my husband anymore. That he'd become a philandering workaholic and that his priorities had changed. Terry held me, and I cried. It would have been fine if that's all that had happened."

"What else happened?" Anger flared across Alan's face, but I had to continue.

"How descriptive do you want me to be?"

"He came onto you?!" Alan stood, knocking his chair down. He began to pace.

"Yes."

"What did he do? Kiss you?"

"Yes."

"That's all?" He was in full fury mode.

I sighed. I would have to tell him, or he would always wonder. "He pushed me down, climbed on top of me, shoved his tongue down my throat, and his hand down my shorts."

Alan's voice was deadly calm. "He tried to rape you?!" Veins thundered beneath his skin. "That fucking bastard! I'll kill him…"

I interrupted his vigilante monologue before he put on a ski mask and tried to buy a handgun in Florida. "You don't have to."

"He attacked you!" he screamed.

I folded my arms, countering his hysteria with calmness. "I'm not exactly helpless, you know."

Curiosity got the best of him. "What did you do?"

"I knocked his balls so far into his throat he won't be able to swallow for a week. Then I kicked him while he lay there. I told him I would call the cops and report him for attempted rape and made him drive me back."

Alan slumped into his chair, staring at me in amazement. Clearly he hadn't expected that.

"He's pretty scared right now. I wouldn't worry about him."

"I still want to kill him," Alan muttered. "Did he give you an excuse as to why?"

I shivered, thinking about that. "He said he's always wanted me and that he thought since I was sleeping with you, I would sleep with him."

"Blackmail?"

"Possibly. Or he could have thought I was a slut."

"Jesus." Alan wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "I had no idea."

We sat for a moment, allowing what I told him to sink in. Relief washed over me, taking all my strength with it. If Alan still wanted to fight, he wouldn't get much from me.

"Are you alright?" He ran those long, sexy fingers through his hair.

That was exactly the right thing to say. "I think so." I responded, taking his hand in mine, "Alan? Do you think I'm a slut?"

"No, I don't. I'm so sorry I even made you think that." He rose and pulled me tightly against him.

I pulled back. "Well, I told you about Nick…"

He brought me back into his arms, "I don't care about Nick. That was completely different."

I took a deep breath, smelling him, remembering, and making new memories. This one problem was solved, but a much bigger one loomed ahead. Tonight, I would have to have answers, but for right now, I felt better.

 

*  *  *

 

Martha arrived promptly at seven, and we left the hotel for the bus, arm-in-arm. During the twenty minute ride, we laughed about the kids' antics on the trip. I noticed that when Alan talked about Rory and Clara, it was with the same affection he used for Alice and Jack. He was already beginning to think of all four kids as ours. I know it should have startled me, but it had the opposite effect, and I melted into him.

Our reservations at the fake English pub weren't until 8:30. We had a table reserved on the patio so we could watch the light show. As darkness fell, we walked around the lagoon, talking intimately and holding hands.

Every time our eyes met, my heart fluttered. I felt nervous and giddy but also comfortable and safe. Like that feeling you have when you fall in love for the first time. It was exciting and terrifying, and I wanted more.

We paused beside the lagoon, Alan's arms around me. His lips brushed my ear, kissing my neck, leaving a trail of shivers across my skin.

"It's a beautiful night," I said.

"You are a beautiful woman," he responded, "and I'm a very lucky man."

"Hmmm, how so?"

"There's no place I would rather be than right here, right now, with you."

I laughed. "You say that to all the moms you run into on vacation."

"No, no, you are the only one."

I turned to face him, kissing him slowly on the lips. He moaned, and I wanted him. Pulling myself away, I forced myself to think of the kids. Tonight was supposed to be about discussing our dilemma. No matter how desperately I wanted to fuck him.

"You were going to tell me what you've decided," I said, searching his eyes.

He nodded, "I was, but you stopped me."

"Don't think you're going to get out of telling me. I want to know. Right here. Right now." I sounded calm but was jelly inside. What if he didn't want me? He seemed so sure of himself. Why wasn't I the same way?

Alan pulled me against him, tracing my face with his fingers, "I know what I want, Laura. I want you. I don't care if we live in a shack in Guatemala. My decision is to have you with me for the rest of my life."

I trembled uncontrollably. He slipped both hands up to my face, looking deeply into my eyes. I can't remember a time when I felt more terrified and happy. He was telling the truth. I could see it in his eyes.

"Come on," he said with a smile, "I'll bet our table is ready."

We held hands all the way to the restaurant. After we ordered, our fingers met across the table. I had made up my mind.

"Okay."

He looked puzzled. "Okay?"

I nodded, apparently having run out of words.

Alan's face turned from confusion to ecstasy when he realized what I was saying. "Really? Are you sure?"

"Yes." I took a mouthful of wine and swallowed. I was taking a big step. My life would change forever. Not just mine, but the kids' lives as well. Mike could just make that goddamned job his mistress. To hell with him.

"My God, Laura." Alan looked like he would leap onto the table. "I don't know what to say."

"Neither do I," I admitted. Fortunately, the fireworks went off, silencing us for a while. Every now and then our eyes would meet, and I thought the table would spontaneously combust from the heat. His fingers never stopped stroking mine. I was completely lost.

"Anything else I can get you folks?" Our waitress asked as she brought our dinners. We shook our heads, and she left.

"What about the kids?" I asked the first question since I had agreed to run off with him.

"Let's try to get custody of all four." He grinned, and I nearly choked on my filet. "Why not? Susan and Mike don't want to be burdened by their families. Let them have every other weekend."

"And what will we do every other weekend with an empty house?" I asked, taking another sip of wine.

"I don't think we'll leave the bedroom."

"I knew I made the right decision." I smiled at him. "But we can't base this decision strictly on sex."

"I suppose we must be practical about it." He chewed his steak thoughtfully. "Where should we live? Your town or mine?"

"Let's find our own town. After all, we have to pull two kids from school, either way. Why not just make a fresh start?"

Alan laughed. "Fine with me. West Coast? East Coast?"

I cut through my meat, "How about the Southwest? Ever lived in New Mexico?"

"I've never even been there. You?"

"Me neither, but I've always wanted to go. I have a friend who's the dean of a college there. I could get work easily enough."

"I can work there. It’s a culturally active area and there are probably theater groups everywhere. ." He lifted his wineglass, "This deserves a toast. To our new life together in New Mexico!"

My glass rang against his, and I drained it. New Mexico. Where the hell did that come from? I suppose if we were going to do something so reckless as run away together, we should start out in a completely new location. My stomach twisted as I wondered if Mike and Susan would fight us. I suppressed the thought.

"So, we've made up our minds, we have a new place to live, and we know the kids will be happy. What's our timeline?"

"Timeline?" I asked.

"Well, you know, when we return home, how long before we break the news and flee to the hinterlands?"

"I don't know. How about immediately?" Leaving Mike was going to be agony. Being alone and away from Alan would be hell. The sooner we left, the better.

Alan pushed away from the table, shaking his head. "I can't believe this is happening. We're actually going to do it."

My God. So we were. "Yes, I guess so."

The silence was deafening. It finally hit me. I was leaving my husband. I was going to get a divorce. I never thought that would happen to me. I certainly never thought it would make me happy to do so. Happy. Jesus. It had been so long since I'd been happy. What would it be like to wake up happy every morning?

"I guess there's only one thing left for me to do." Alan rose from his seat and came around to mine, kneeling down on one knee before me. I think my heart stopped beating at that moment.

"This is something I thought I would do years ago. Laura," he began, "will you marry me?"

"Oh yes! Of course I will! Alan, I love you!" Tears flowed down my cheeks as I nodded in response to his proposal. A clearer head might have pointed out that I and the man proposing to me were already married to other people. A sober person might have said, let's take it one day at a time, or something reasonable like that. I think this might have been the most insane moment of my life. Things could only get saner from this point, right?

"I love you too. I know it sounds crazy," Alan said solemnly, "but I just can't live without you. Do you understand?"

I nodded. It did sound crazy, but it also made sense. There would be a lot of tears, not to mention paperwork, along the way. But for right now, life seemed absolutely perfect.

As we walked through the park on our way to the bus, I thought about all the questions crowding my brain. Instead of answering them, I just catalogued them for later. Tomorrow we could answer them. My heart was happy. Soon, my head would be too. But right now, that wasn't important.

When the lights went out on the bus, we made out like teenagers. Our lips never parted as his hands roamed across my body and my fingers explored his. I was going to give this man the lovemaking of a lifetime tonight. And it would just be a preview of what was to come for the rest of our lives.

When the bus came to a stop in front of our hotel, I pulled away, leading him off by the hand. In spite of what was to come, we moved slowly, taking our time as we passed through the lobby out to the bar area by the pool.

"Would you like a drink?" Alan asked, stroking my arms with his hands.

"Sure. Sounds good."

"I'll be right back." He pulled out a chair for me and headed to the bar. The night was cool, but my flesh was on fire. I took a couple of deep breaths and closed my eyes. Everything happened so fast, but I wasn't upset. Shouldn't I be?

No, this was what I wanted. It's the right thing to do. I knew it in my heart. For the first time in a long time, I felt at peace with my future.

Alan returned with two glasses of champagne, sitting after placing a glass in front of me. "To my future wife, Laura, the woman of my dreams."

"To the man that I love," I replied, "with all of my heart."

The glasses clinked, and we drained them. I started to laugh as the bubbles burned my throat.

"What is it?" Alan asked with a wicked grin.

"What I meant was, with all of my body."

"Oooh. Let's include that in our vows!"

"Mom would love that. Maybe we could get the minister to say, 'Now you may fuck the bride.'" Hmmm, that had potential.

"Now my dad would love that one. Why don't we just get a justice of the peace to do the ceremony from the hotel room?"

"That would make the wedding pictures tricky, to say the least." My God, we were talking about our wedding!

"You're right. But just in case, maybe we should get some practice in." Alan stood, holding his hand out to me.

"Yeah, we want to be really good at sex before the wedding night. I don't want it to be awkward in any way." I took his hand, and together we laughed as we walked to our rooms.

From the hall, we could see that the lights were out in Alan's room, on in mine. The kids would be asleep with Martha knitting away in the other room.

"I'm going to run down to the bar and get us a couple of drinks," Alan said.

"You go; I'll pay Martha and get ready for you."

He kissed me. "That sounds promising," he stroked my cheek with his thumb, then turned and headed back toward the hotel.

I was so giddy I could barely get the keycard into the door. I fought the urge to begin disrobing as I entered the room. Martha would probably be a little shocked. Finally the handle gave way, and I pushed the door open.

"Hey Martha," I began, smiling and flushed with desire.

Martha was gone. There, sitting in her place, was my husband.