Once Upon Another Time (33 page)

“Okay, I want to
see some identification from both of you,” barked the gruff officer who just
handcuffed Laura.

“That would
require I be David Copperfield,” she said tersely, as she stood with hands
cuffed behind her back. 

One of the
officers quickly retrieved our handbags, and pulled our wallets out to identify
who we were.  That’s when “officer nasty,” badge number 243, began reading us
our Miranda rights.

“Wait a minute,”
said Laura.  “Why are you arresting us?”

“Come on lady,
give me a break.  You’re in possession of a stolen vehicle.” 

“A what!  Excuse
me but this car belongs to my boyfriend, David Bartholomew.  Well, technically
he’s no longer my boyfriend, but he was up till thirty-five minutes ago.”

“Nice try lady,
but the car is registered to Cynthia Cornwall.”

“Cynthia Cornwall?” 
Laura repeated.  “That name sounds familiar.”

“It should if you
live in Providence.  Her daddy owns half of everything in town.  He’s a huge
investment tycoon.”

Laura looked at me
incredulously.  “I thought she looked familiar.  Yeah, I recall seeing her
picture in the newspaper for some benefit her father was sponsoring.  However,
it was only a head shot.  Seeing tonight that there’s only three feet of her is
what threw me off.  Ugh!  What a weasel David is.  He was picking me up in his
wife’s car?” 

As we stood on the
shoulder of the road, Laura angrily stomped her Pradas into the gravel, when
she noticed the man with the camera.  “And exactly who is this bozo?” she
snapped, while looking him up and down.

All at once, the
answer to her question blasted through my head like a Vegas slot
machine--lights flashing--bells dinging.  I recalled an old TV program where
two half-naked prostitutes kicked and screamed, while two officers put them
into the backseat of a squad car.  I had heard they resumed filming to bring
back a new version of the program.

Are they
filming us for a new Cops show?

As I walked the
two blocks from the parking ramp to the office, I mentally laid out my personal
to-do list.  Pick up the “Buns of Steel” video to work on my buns of jiggle. 
Call the vet to find out how to get cat spray out of sofa cushions.  Make an
appointment to get Buster’s gonads clipped and buy a bottle of shampoo. 

Nicholas had tried
to rid Buster of what he’d called “a funny smell” and inadvertently used up a
half bottle of shampoo.  The cat foamed up each time he walked through the
sprinklers. 

That morning as I
pushed through the doors of my office building, I felt an overwhelming sense of
disappointment in myself.  While caught up in my own world, it never dawned on
me that Laura might have needed to lean on me occasionally.  I’d never
recognized her fragility until her breakup with David, and as I boarded the
elevator for the twelfth floor, I couldn’t help but feel guilty for all I’d
had, while Laura was hurting. 

Gavin was beyond
thoughtful.  He’d made a welcome-home-from-summer-camp sign for Nicholas and
insisted on going with me to Hope Elementary to pick him up.  My heart melted
as he and Nicholas bonded over an exchange of camping adventures on the drive
home.  As I listened, I’d thought about Matt.  All the things Gavin had taken
time to teach Nicholas over the ten weeks we had dated were things Matt
couldn’t wait to teach our son.

It was bittersweet
knowing Gavin had filled in to do what Matt never had the chance to do and
Nicholas was changing because of it.  He seemed surer of himself.  Possibly,
because I was in a stable relationship and because Gavin had become a father
figure in Nicholas’s life.  He no longer felt like an outsider with his
friends, especially the day Gavin showed up unexpectedly for his first day of
school and Nicholas pulled Gavin along to introduce him to his classmates. 

Gavin had made
life special for Nicholas and me.  It had felt as if we were a family.  He was
the missing link that helped mend the broken fences of our hearts, and brought
new meaning to our lives in a very familiar way. 

The elevator doors
opening to my floor was reminiscent of the awaking of my mind.  I’d felt
especially saddened by Laura having been betrayed by David.  Taking the blame
for failing to protect her from playboys like that, I saw Laura pacing around
my desk like a tigress at the Roger Williams Park Zoo.  I knew I’d never let
her down again.

 Two weeks had
passed since her devastating breakup with David.  Although I knew it would take
a while to recover, she’d pretended that she had already bounced back from the
Jerry Springer-like episode.  I believe her pretense, in part, was due to
Cynthia Cornwall.  Yes, she did have us arrested.  However, the woman showed
empathy and consideration.  After identifying us in a line-up at the police
station, Laura had a chance to speak with Cynthia.  Laura tearfully told of how
she didn’t know David was married and that she detested married men who cheat. 
Not only had Cynthia dropped the charges against us, she went a step farther
and asked Laura if she knew of a good divorce attorney.

Gavin wasn’t at
all upset that I had left him with David at the dance club.  In fact, he had
raced to the police station prepared to post bond for Laura and I. Thank
goodness, he didn’t need to bail us out. 

As for the person
filming our arrest--yes, it was for a new
Cops
episode--and no, we did
not sign the waiver agreeing to show our faces on camera.  Besides, we didn’t
have to worry about the segment airing since all charges had been dropped. 

Laura turned to
look at me as I walked through the doorway of my office. 

“You are not going
to believe this.  I swear David does not have one shred of dignity left in him.
 The pathetic ass actually called last night and begged me to take him back. 
After I laughed for what seemed like a good five minutes I told him, ‘For God’s
sake David, pull yourself up by the half a ball you still have left and get on
with your life.  Either make a commitment to get back together with your wife
or make a commitment to get a divorce, but make a commitment to something!’” 
Laura said frostily, as she stopped to gaze out the window.  The dismal
overcast skies mimicked her mood.

“I think he’s
under the impression I’m some dumb blonde who’d lie down and wait for his
call.  Ha!  Hell would freeze over first.  Men can be so self-righteous.  When
are they going to realize women are the dominate beings?”

Laura had always
spoken in a very assertive manner.  As sure as our past president defended his
decision on Iraq, Laura had always defended womanhood and equal rights. 

“Besides, I
already have my eye on the new district attorney.  Have you seen him?” she
inquired adventurously, as she spun around to face me.

Anyone who didn’t
know Laura would have concluded her inner emotional pool had dried up for one
man, and uncaringly, she’d immediately tapped into a new reservoir of stimuli. 
However, that wasn’t true.  I had always thought of us as polar opposites, when
it came to men.  They always ran from me as if I were Typhoid Mary.  For Laura,
even after she’d kicked them to the curb, even if they were technically not
available, they continued to cling to her.  That day in my office as I looked
at Laura circling my desk, I’d realized we were very much alike.  Both of us
riddled with insecurities from our past.

She had built-in
radar for choosing men whose biggest flaw was they lacked the commitment
gene--like her father, a Harvard graduate with the IQ of a genius who had the
expectations of an army drill sergeant.  Even when Laura was a child, he could
never relate to her world of Barbie dolls, or the zealous way she overfed her
guinea pigs until they practically exploded.  At times, he could be cruel and
moody.  A symptom of most men born before Hollywood created the movie classic,
Old
Yeller
, which enabled men to discover emotions they never knew they had. 
Only on rare occasions did Laura spend time with her father, as his commitment
was to his work and his mistress, not his family.  Hence, Laura’s extreme need
for male attention and uncanny knack for choosing men who couldn’t commit.

 “So, that was how
you left it with David?”

I set my briefcase
on the desk.  She folded her arms across her chest and studied the floor. 
Clearly, she was still struggling with sensitive emotions. 

“Yep.  I just
don’t know why I never saw that coming from him, being married, and all.  How
could he?  Sure, eventually--even sooner than later--I would have tired of him
and left, but dammit, he practically broke my heart.”  She quickly wiped a fat
tear from her cheek.

I pulled a tissue
from the box on my desk.  “Listen,” I said, as I gave her the tissue, while
brushing away a platinum tendril of hair that hung in her eyes.  “What’s
important is that you kept the expensive diamond necklace and matching
earrings.  You did do that, right?”

She dabbed her
eyes and honked into the tissue.  “Of course I did.”  The corner of her mouth
curled up ever so slightly, as she tossed the crumpled tissue into the
wastepaper basket.

“It’s incredible,”
Laura said, as she looked me in the eye.

“What’s
incredible?”

“The endless
amount of snot and tears my body has produced over the past two weeks.”

“Yes,” I said. 
“If only it could fuel automobiles, women around the world would be rich.”

A devilish grin
crossed Laura’s lips.  “It was kind of funny,” she sniffled, “that David had to
go to the hospital to get a tetanus shot for the bite his wife took out of his
leg.”

“It was,” I said
with a laugh.  “And it was so Thelma-and-Louise-like when we took off in his
wife’s Porsche, while flames practically shot up from the rear tires.”

“Even better,”
Laura said, getting the giggles.  “How about when we were sitting on the bench
in central booking and that tattooed female prisoner flirted with you?  And you
told her that bogus story about missing your dose of anti-psychotic meds, and
literally growled at her.  I was waiting for you to foam at the mouth,” Laura
said, as she leaned against the desk, laughing herself silly.

“No, no, the best
one was when they put us in lockdown with those women who called us ‘white
homeys,’ and you strutted around in your designer clothes, trying to act all
tough and in control.  Little did you know, the dried up puddles of mascara
under your eyes and black streaks down both sides of your face had you looking
like ‘Ozzy Osbourne, the younger years,’” I said, while laughing so hard, I
felt as if I was about to pee myself.

“Oh, oh, oh,”
Laura said, jumping up and down and flapping her hands like an overactive child
who had missed her daily dose of Ritalin.  “But did you catch the death ray
look in David’s wife’s eyes when I told her I was appalled at David’s actions
and disgusted that he had the gall to bring me to their
penthouse
?  And
she asked, ‘What penthouse?’”

We’d both
dissolved into a wave of giggles as we bantered on about our adventures in the
Big House.  For the first time in many years, I had found Laura leaning on me
to help her through her heartache. 
Maybe now I could begin to feel worthy
of her friendship.

I gazed down at
Gavin lying in my bed all rumpled and warm from our long love making session,
while making circles on his glistening chest with my index finger.  He lifted a
hand and combed back a thick wave of hair that fell over one side of my face,
while looking up at me with smoldering Superman good looks and black sooty
lashes over half-opened crystal blue eyes.  “Come here,” he said, as he put his
hand on the back of my head and pulled me down until my lips met with his.

While we kissed, I
thought about our lovemaking.  Never had I drawn comparisons between men, few
as that may have been.  However, with every touch of Gavin’s hand, every word
he whispered in my ear, his actions, and his body fitting perfectly with mine, was
like reliving my life with Matt.  The similarities were incredible, yet they
were uniquely different.  Like biting into an apple and tasting the sweet
citrus of an orange.  Matt and Gavin had somehow felt interchangeable in my
mind.

“I think you've
bewitched me,” Gavin whispered, as I rolled off his muscular, tanned body to
lie next to him.  The sheets felt moist against my naked skin, as I tucked a
silky blue feather-stuffed throw pillow under my head.  

 “That was part of
my evil plan all along,” I said softly, as I lightly ran the tips of my fingers
over his glistening triceps and then gave him a kiss and slipped out from under
his arms.

“Not so fast.”  He
pulled me back to bed, and rested his head on my chest. 

“It’s 7:00,” I said,
as I took his face in my hands and lifted his head off my chest.  His 5:00
shadow felt coarse against my palms.  “Don’t you want supper?”

“No, I want you.” 
His breath felt warm as he snuggled his face into my neck.

“Okay, but I’m
warning you.  I haven’t eaten since this morning and if I don’t get some food
in me quickly, I could pass out.  It’d be like making love to a cadaver.” 

He raised his head
and stared into my eyes, as if he were searching for an answer to a question
never asked.  His lips curled up slowly, as he rolled over onto his back and
pulled me on top of him.  “Okay, we’ll have supper, but before we do I want to
tell you something.”  He cupped my hand in his and placed it over his heart,
while I studied the dimple in his chin, his strong Roman nose, and full lips. 
“You bring out feelings in me I never knew existed.  Yet, it’s a familiar
feeling, like we’d always been together.”

Those words added
fuel to the fire of thoughts that by some miracle in the universe there was a
connection between the only two men I’d ever loved.