Is This What I Want? (7 page)

I kissed her forehead, feeling more in love with her than ever. She kissed my lips and then nibbled my earlobe, which she knows gets me going quickly.

That was all I could take. I tried to be gentle, but she didn’t seem to want that. The knowledge that I had been with another woman, even a long time ago, brought out the animal in her. I didn’t sleep on the couch that night. In fact, we didn’t sleep much at all, waking twice during the night and one final time just before sunrise to prove that we did, in fact, belong only to one another.

HORRIFIED BY THE PUFFY
face staring back at me in the rearview mirror, I watched as two new streams of mascara laced tears slid down my cheeks. I considered canceling on my mother. I was already ten minutes late for our lunch at California Pizza Kitchen because I couldn’t stop crying. But she hadn’t even called to check on me yet, so I made another attempt to pull myself together and clean up my face with wet wipes and tissues.

Walking through the door, I pretended not to notice the cheery greeting of the hostess as I headed straight for my mother, who was waving at me frantically from a table toward the back of the restaurant.

“So, what happened?” she asked. “I thought you weren’t planning to have Jack start preschool until after he turned two.”

I sucked in a long, choppy breath, telling myself I could not lose it in a public place.

“I know. But the university lab school had a last minute opening and it’s so hard to get in there. I never thought we’d get called from the waiting list. And he’ll be two in just three months.”

“So you only found out yesterday and they said if you didn’t bring him today you’d lose the spot?”

I nodded as I covered my mouth and looked away from her, blinking back the fresh liquid welling up.

She was silent, understanding.

My mind went back to the harrowing moment just a half hour earlier. Jack’s face twisted in pain as I explained that I had to leave and would be back for him in just four hours.

“No, Mama, no! No leave me here, Mama!”

“Jack, you’re going to have so much fun. You’ll meet new friends and get to play with all these fun toys.”

I picked up a plastic apple from the play kitchen a few feet away and attempted to hand it to him. He swatted it away.

“And look over there, look at all the costumes. I bet you would have fun trying some of those on.”

“No! No! Let’s go home, Mama. Home! Please! No leave me here!” That’s when his waterworks started, along with wailing and moaning.

I started to second-guess my decision, which had kept me awake all night. I considered taking him home and trying again in six months. But this was an award-winning school. We’d never have another chance to get back in. How could I give up this opportunity?

Crouching down to his level, I took Jack into my arms. He held on to me as if he would be torn apart by wolves if he let go. That’s when I first felt my eyes become wet. I talked myself out of crying as I kissed his cheeks and patted the fluffy blond curls all over his head.

Mrs. Mary, a sweet older woman with a short gray bob and light blue eyes that looked cartoonishly large because of her thick round glasses, walked toward us with a big grin on her face. Clearly this was a regular occurrence for her, one that caused minimal dismay, despite the fact that Jack and I were experiencing heart-wrenching torture. She stood right in front of us and smiled even bigger as she spoke.

“Okay, Mrs. Thomas, we know you have to go now. Don’t worry about a thing. Jack is going to have so much fun today! Come on, Jack, do you want to meet Harold, our class hamster?”

Jack pulled back from me and looked into my eyes, his angry face drenched. He shook his head back and forth, refusing to even acknowledge her.

She bent down and stroked Jack’s back. He grabbed onto me again and buried his face in my neck. I searched her face for some sign of what to do. Her smile disappeared, replaced with a look of determination as she mouthed the words, “You have to go.”

My lip quivered. I knew she was right. It wouldn’t matter if we tried again in six months or a year. We had to go through this sometime and today was as good a day as any.

Feeling like the most heartless human being who ever walked the earth, I peeled Jack’s arms off of me. He tried to reattach himself but his twenty-one-month-old strength was no match for mine or Mrs. Mary’s, who took his hand and gently pulled him away from me.

“No! No! No!” he screamed as I backed away.

I thought my chest would explode as I said with what he must have known was fake confidence, “Have a great day, honey, you’ll be fine. I love you!”

The look of betrayal on Jack’s face as I walked out the door was something I’d never forget. I knew this for certain because the image of Sam’s face on his first day of preschool was permanently etched in my mind, despite the fact that he had long forgotten the memory himself.

“So it’s only twelve hours a week, right?” I forced myself to come back to my mother, grateful for her attempt to help me realize this was not a tragedy.

I nodded slowly and wiped the corners of my eyes with a paper napkin.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just twelve hours a week. And the odd days and times they gave us actually work well. Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday from eleven to three. Since I teach Tuesdays and Thursdays from four to seven, I can really use that time to review for lectures, finish up grading, that kind of thing. And Wednesdays, well… maybe we can have lunch together once in a while, like this.” Her face beamed with delight.

“I’d love that, B. I never know my weekly schedule until the last minute, but I usually end up with two or three Wednesdays off a month.” The fact that over two decades of stellar performance as a critical care nurse didn’t afford her any flexibility or advance notice of her schedule always baffled me.

A disturbing thought crept into my mind. What if the situation with Dave were happening now? What if I was still infatuated with him and suddenly had twelve hours a week alone? The next thought actually sent a visible shiver down my spine. I was angry that he came to my first class the first week of school, but I was also a little disappointed that he didn’t show up the second week. I hadn’t admitted it to myself, but in my vulnerable state, I let myself feel it. I was still attracted to him. I still wanted Dave and seeing him stirred things up again inside me. I hadn’t forgotten our irresistible kisses and long, intimate chats online late at night when everyone else was asleep. I wasn’t aware of the conflicted look that crept onto my face until my mother spoke.

“Beth, I know this… Jack starting preschool is hard for you, but it seems like… I don’t know. Is there something more going on? Are things okay with you and Rick?”

I looked into my mother’s face and saw concern, compassion, and curiosity. I didn’t let her into my inner world often, but I couldn’t think of a good reason not to anymore. The days of confronting her about things like the time my uncle made sexual advances and blaming her for not protecting me were long behind us. Now that I was a mother myself, I knew that none of us could ever be vigilant enough to protect our children from all harm and heartache. I pondered the possibility of pouring my heart out to her right then and there.

She waited. I took in her sweet blue eyes, her champagne blond hair, and the pretty teardrop purple earrings that matched her blouse perfectly. I knew that this lunch was important to her. We hadn’t had lunch alone in ages. I realized she must have seen it as one of my rare attempts to reach out and move beyond the tensions and resentments I used to keep her at a distance.

I opened my mouth to speak but the server, a petite, young, beautiful Japanese woman named Mandy was suddenly standing before us.

“Can I start you off with some fresh lemonade or iced tea?”

I looked at my mother for confirmation, which she provided.

“No thanks,” I said. “We’ll start off with two glasses of La Crema Pinot Noir, please.”

We talked more about how to help Jack adjust to preschool for a while. The combination of her supportive words and the effects of the wine began to take the edge off so I decided it was time to change the subject.

“You’re right, Mom. There is more going on. So much I don’t even know where to start.”

She looked at her watch. “We’ve got plenty of time. Start anywhere.”

I took a large gulp of wine and its warmth surged through me. I nodded.

“Sure, I might as well tell you everything. But Mom, I don’t want to fight. Can you please try not to give me advice or say anything that’ll set me off? Can you just listen? I already know the things I should do. I just need to vent a little.”

I could see she was hurt and for a second, I started to rethink the idea of opening up.

“Why would you think I would… of course I can just listen, B. I’ve always tried to be there for you. You’re the one who keeps everything inside and doesn’t seem to trust me, which I don’t understand.”

Another large gulp of wine. I was on the precipice of a confrontation and I had two choices. I could jump off by giving in to my anger and old hurts and launching into a list of ways my mother had failed me, pressing her guilt buttons by reminding her of all the times she wasn’t there for me.

The other choice was to back away from the cliff, to retreat and head toward the lush green hills of her comfort.

“Okay, Mom, I’m sorry. I really am.”

Mandy appeared for the third time to ask us if we wanted to order food. I knew we should, but I didn’t want anything to interfere with the numbing effect of wine on an empty stomach. She assured us that we were welcome to take as long as we liked to decide on our order and that we should just wave her down when we were ready. What I was most ready to do was unload.

“So do you remember how a few months ago, I told you I kissed a former student, a twenty-one-year-old kid?”

She nodded and a look of worry took over her face, but she was careful not to reveal any sign of judgment.

“Well, it’s so embarrassing but, oh my God, Mom. I let it continue after that. I let it go too far.”

Now her expression was inquisitive. She had to know how far I let it go.

“We started talking all the time, mostly over the computer, but we did see each other a few times too.”

I knew she would never ask but was dying to know and I was feeling charitable. Charitable and a little buzzed, so I went on.

“I didn’t have sex with him, but, well, we did other things, too much. I should never have allowed myself to cross the line. I just had this crazy attraction to him, you know? I can’t explain it. It doesn’t make sense. Mostly, I loved how interested he was in me, how fun and new it was to talk to him. And I’m starting to think that even now, the feelings are still there. I’ve worked so hard to move on. Rick and I are in couple’s therapy and we each go individually too. I’m really trying, Mom.”

She placed her hand on top of mine and patted it.

“These situations are so difficult. I understand, B. I really do. More than you know.”

There was something about her tone of voice that gave me the answer to something I had wondered many times in my life. With my glass of wine almost empty and my raw emotional state, nothing seemed off limits anymore.

“You did it too didn’t you, Mom? It wasn’t just Dad.”

She looked ashamed and afraid of what might be coming. Still she nodded an almost imperceptible nod.

“Just once. Right after the second time I caught him.”

“Mom, I get it. God, we’re all so messed up. Is everyone like this or is there some kind of curse on our family?”

“Well, I think a lot more people go through this than we could possibly know. Look, fifty percent of all marriages end in divorce, right? I’m still married. You’re still married. We’re trying to work it out. We deserve credit for that.”

She paused to take a sip of her wine. Her glass was still nearly full while mine had only a drop left. I sensed advice coming and braced myself. I wanted help, but we didn’t have a good history of being able to talk about difficult issues without arguing. I hoped that could change now.

I looked down and fiddled with my watch, wondering how angry Jack would still be when I went to pick him up. Then I focused my attention back on my mother.

“You just need to give it more time. It’s too soon for you to forget. The most important thing is that you can’t see him. There can be no contact.”

I leaned back and the vinyl cushioning of the booth seat made a whoosh sound.

I looked at her with a sarcastic grin.

“You’re absolutely right. I cut off all contact some time ago and it did help. A lot. Rick and I have been working on our relationship and talking more. We’ve had some wonderful romantic moments. I was feeling hopeful. But then…”

I pictured Jack’s face again. I wanted to go get him and bring him home to cuddle up for a nap with me. But now I had sealed the deal. He had to stay for the remaining three hours because it would take me that long to completely sober up enough to drive.

My mother waited patiently as I tried to formulate the words for maximum impact.

“Well, here it is. I hadn’t seen or heard from him all summer. Then last week when school started…”

I almost couldn’t say it. A rush of jumbled emotions overtook me and I had to take in a deep breath to get it out.

“He’s in my damn class.”

She gasped. One of those melodramatic, soap opera, just-spotted-your-evil-twin-brother-who-you-thought-was-dead gasps. The couple at the table next to us looked over and then quickly looked away when they saw our embarrassed faces.

“Mom, please,” I whispered.

“But Beth, he’s in your class? You have to get him out. He can drop it, can’t he?”

“Well, he came to the first meeting, last Tuesday. We only meet once a week so I spent the week trying to figure out how to ask him to drop the class. Then yesterday, he didn’t show up for our second class. I was sick with stress about talking to him after class, and he didn’t even show up. I have no idea what he’s thinking. I know he hasn’t dropped the class because he’s still on the roster. But maybe he’s planning to. Or maybe he’ll be back next week. Next Friday is the last official day to drop a class.”

A look of determination came over her. “You have to get him out of that class.”

I remembered how good he looked, how I tried to hold my breath as I stood right in front of from him to provide handouts for his row. But my disobedient nose searched for his apple-scented shampoo only to find that it had been replaced. His soft, messy brown hair now smelled of cloves, which was just as yummy and even more masculine. I struggled not to look in his direction as I reviewed the syllabus and answered questions about the course, yet the one time I met his piercing green eyes, I saw the question in them. He wanted to know if there was still a chance. I gave him my best cold stare in return but wondered if he could see through it.