Savage Lane (22 page)

“There’s my big boy,” Mark said. “How’re you this morning, kiddo?”

“’Kay,” Justin said flatly, sitting at the table.

“Well, you look a lot better,” Mark said. “You look rested, you look happy. How about some pancakes for breaksticks?”

“’Kay,” Justin said.

Mark made Justin a couple of just-add-water buttermilk pancakes and served them to Justin with syrup. Justin took a bite, seemed a little disappointed, and said, “Mom makes them better.”

`“That’s not a nice thing to say,” Mark said. “You just hurt my feelings.”

“Sorry,” Justin said.

Mark left the kitchen, checking his cell, annoyed that Karen still hadn’t contacted him. Then it occurred to him that it was weird that Deb wasn’t up yet either, as she also wasn’t usually a late sleeper. When Mark woke up he’d noticed that she wasn’t next to him and then when he left the bedroom Casey started jumping on him because he hadn’t been let out yet. Mark assumed Deb had come home late, maybe one or two in the morning, and fallen asleep on a couch in the living room, or slept in the guestroom. She wasn’t in the living room so—just out of curiosity, not because he actually
cared
—he went up to the guest room, but the couch hadn’t been opened and there was no sign that she had slept there. Weird, yeah, but wasn’t it to be expected? The way she’d sashayed out of the house last night, obviously trying to make him jealous, it made sense that she’d sleep at Kathy’s or wherever to make him think that she was with a guy. It was a sad way of trying to make him jealous and upset, but as a mother of two kids it was also ridiculously irresponsible of her to play these games. Mark was going to have to remember to tell his lawyer about this too.

Ten o’clock and still no texts or calls from Karen—now
this
was getting Mark seriously concerned. He could deal with Deb checking out because his marriage had been dying a slow death for years, but he couldn’t handle even the possibility of losing Karen. He had to smooth things over, make her understand that everything was cool. He knew that if they just talked and he heard her voice he could get her to laugh and see the lighter side of the situation. She’d once told him, “You make me laugh. Joe hardly ever made me laugh. That’s what I love about you.”
Love
—her word, not his. That was proof that their connection was real,
special
. She was having a hard time admitting it to herself, though, and was just taking some time to process things before opening up completely. That was okay; it was all good. He wanted to give her all the space she needed and didn’t want to come on too strong.

But after another twenty minutes went by and there was still no word from her, he was starting to get paranoid again. Maybe he should go see her in person, just to say hi and make sure everything was cool? He loved the idea—in a few minutes he’d be with his future wife. Yes, yes, this was amazing.

He went upstairs and changed into jeans and a white button-down. He knew he looked good in white; it always contrasted nicely with his dark, Mediterranean skin. He slicked his hair back and sprayed on some of the new cologne he’d bought—Drive by Derek Jeter—and thought he looked hot, just like Javier Bardem.

He said to the mirror, “Go get her, Javier.”

Riley, who was in the living room, doing something on her iPad, looked up and said, “Why are you so dressed up at eleven o’clock in the morning?”

“Dressed up?” He made a confused expression, but felt like he was overdoing it. “Who’s dressed up?”

“Um, you are, Dad.”

“I’m just going for a walk, be back in a few,” he said.

As he headed toward the door, Riley said something, but Mark was distracted, checking out his sexy, brooding profile in a mirror, and didn’t hear.

“What?” Mark asked.

“Where’s Mommy?” Riley asked. “Your wife.”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

“Did she come home last night?”

Opening the door, Mark said, “Not sure,” then left before hearing whatever else Riley was saying.

Walking to Karen’s, Mark was rehearsing in his head—and occasionally out loud—what he’d say to her. He’d play it cool, not act at all concerned that he hadn’t heard from her last night or this morning, making her think it was no big deal, that he wasn’t worried or doubtful about their relationship at all. Confidence was key. She’d probably apologize, say, “Sorry for the way I acted outside Sarah Waxman’s yesterday. I was just in a really bad mood, ’cause of you know, and it had nothing to do with you.” He loved the “’cause of you know” part; as a woman, Karen would have to understand how hard it was to go through a separation, she’d have to have sympathy. Then they’d sit at her kitchen table, no in the living room, on the couch, yeah, the couch. Her kids wouldn’t be home, they’d be out with friends or wherever—it would just be the two of them all alone, and romantic music, Sinatra, would be playing; it was his fantasy, why couldn’t he pick the music? They’d talk about the future, how they wanted to be together forever, and the timing for when Mark could move in. And then—or actually probably before then—they’d kiss. Mark’s heart raced. It was actually going to happen today, within minutes; what he’d been dreaming about for years would be a reality. Soon he’d actually be kissing Karen Daily.

He rang the doorbell, licking and sucking on his lips, hating that they were so dry, and his whole mouth was sticky; why didn’t he have a glass of water before he left? He felt sweat building on his neck and chest and then, with panic, noticed that he had big sweat marks on his shirt from his armpits. Shit, why hadn’t he worn a T-shirt underneath or a thicker button-down?

The door opened. It was Elana, who seemed disappointed when she saw it was him. Her eyes were red, glassy, had she been crying? Yeah, probably.

“Hey, is your mom home?” Mark asked, actually hoping she wasn’t, that she was out doing errands, so he’d have a chance to dash home and drink a glass of water and put on some Chapstick and a different shirt.

“Ma!” Elana called out. Then she said, “Come in,” and walked away up the stairs, doing something on her iPhone.

Mark was blowing on his underarm areas as he went into the house and then saw Karen coming downstairs. He was expecting her to smile, say, “Wow, what a pleasant surprise,” so he was confused when she stopped two or three steps from the bottom and, towering over him, said, “What are
you
doing here?”

For a few seconds, he was distracted, noticing how perfect her body looked in leggings and a sports bra, then he snapped out of it, saying, “Oh, just dropped by to say ‘hi.’”

“This isn’t a good time,” she said.

For an instant, Mark panicked, thinking she might have a guy over, but he relaxed, realizing that this didn’t make much sense with Elana home.

“Oh, okay,” Mark said. “Is everything cool?”

“No actually, everyth… This just isn’t a good time.”

“No problem,” Mark said. “Do you want to go for lunch or coffee late—”

“No, okay?” Karen said. “No, I do not.”

Mark looked at her face closely, noticing she looked tired and/or upset—her eyes bloodshot with puffiness around them.

“You don’t seem like yourself,” he said.

“I just can’t deal with any more drama in my life right now,” she said.

“Oh, I get it,” he said. “I told you, we don’t have to worry about that anymore. It looks like what I told you yesterday is happening for real. My marriage is over,
finito
.”

Karen’s eye widened and her jaw clenched. She looked back over her shoulder, probably checking to see if her kids were there, then she marched down the rest of the stairs, went by Mark, motioning with her hand for him to follow her. They went through the kitchen, into the dining area at the other end of the house, Mark trailing, knowing by the way she was shaking her head that she was seriously upset. This visit wasn’t exactly going as planned.

At the end of the dining room, near the sliding doors leading out to the deck, Karen stopped and looked at Mark and whispered harshly, “Are you crazy? My kids are home.”

“Sorry,” Mark whispered. “I wasn’t thinking, but you’re right. We probably shouldn’t tell them yet.”

“Tell them
what
?” Still angry as hell. “What are you talking about?”

“Us,” Mark said, like it was obvious, because it was.

“There’s no us,” Karen said. “What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you…” She was shaking her head. “Look, I can’t deal with this right now. I have to function for my kids and this whole thing is driving me crazy. You have to go. Please, just go.”

Mark couldn’t remember ever seeing Karen so agitated.

“I’ll go, I’ll go,” he said. “But I think I get why you’re so angry.”

“Can you keep your voice down?”

“I’m trying to say, I understand, I get it,” Mark whispered. “It’s because you think you’re responsible, but you’re not. Me ending my marriage has nothing to do with you, okay? This has to do with me and Deb. It’s
our
decision.” Mark was smiling, saying to himself,
It is because of her. You’re so full of shit. Who are you kidding
?

“Why are you smiling?” Karen asked. “You think this is funny?”

“No,” Mark said. “I’m just… happy.”

“I don’t want to hear about your fucking happiness.” She was waving her hands in front of her face. “You need help, not from me, from a therapist.”

Mark knew she didn’t mean any of this. She was just scared. She didn’t want to be the bad one, the home wrecker.

“I know what you’re going through right now,” Mark said.

“Just go home,” she said. “If you like me at all, if you respect me at all, you’ll just do this. Please.
Please
.”

He knew she didn’t mean this either. So he said, “Fine, talk to you later when you chill out,” and left the house, thinking there was no way she’d be able to stay away from him for long.

At home, Mark tried to not think about Karen, which turned out to be easy because there was a crisis at work. Two major systems were down in Hong Kong and programmers were emailing him, like he was a fucking help desk, and he resented that he had to deal with this shit on a Sunday. There were supposed to be people in Hong Kong to handle these problems, and even if they were understaffed there, why were they calling him? He was middle management, he wasn’t supposed to be doing hands-on work, but he had to suck it up and be the Company Man. Bonuses had been shitty enough lately, and he didn’t want to give his boss any reason to fuck him over at Christmas time.

During the calls, while he was on hold, he went on Facebook and wound up on Karen’s page. He looked through her recent pics, including one of her with Steven. Look at the guy, with his ponytail; why had Karen gone for a guy like that? To feel better, Mark went to the photos of himself with Karen. There were some on her page—one from maybe ten years ago when she was married to Joe, of him and Karen with Deb and Joe at a barbecue in their backyard. He was next to her in the photo, both smiling widely, arms around each other’s waists. The other photos were from a couple of kids’ birthday parties and one at a New Year’s Eve party Mark and Deb had had maybe five years ago.

He had the enlarged pic of him and Karen with their arms around each other up on the screen when Riley appeared behind him and asked, “Where’s Mommy?”

He immediately X’d the page and said, “Out still, I guess.”

“Did she come home last night or not?” Riley asked.

“I don’t think so,” Mark said.

“Before you said you weren’t sure.”

“What difference does it make what I said?”

Sometimes Riley reminded Mark of Deb, the way they both tried to nudge information out of him.

“Her car’s not here,” Riley said.

“She left it at the country club yesterday,” Mark said. “I’m on hold on a work call.”

“Why?”

“Because sometimes I get work calls on Sundays.”

“No, I mean why did she leave her car at the club?”

Mark was going to explain that she’d been too drunk to drive but didn’t want to get into it and said, “It doesn’t matter why.”

“I don’t get it,” Riley said. “How did she go anywhere without her car?”

Mark thought he remembered hearing a car pull up before she’d left yesterday.

“I think a friend picked her up,” he said.

“A friend? What friend?”

“I don’t know… Kathy?”

“Kathy
Davidson
? I don’t think Mommy even talks to her anymore. They had some falling out or something two years ago.”

Now, vaguely, Mark remembered hearing about that. He had no idea what Deb had been doing with her time lately, who her current friends were; all he knew was that she could’ve gone back to work years ago, but hadn’t, and it had caused a strain on them financially.

“And besides,” Riley went on, “Mommy,
Mom
never stays over with friends. She always sleeps at home… Did you and Mommy have a fight? I mean, I know you always have fights, but did you have a big fight? Is that why she’s not home?”

Mark didn’t want to have a conversation about the divorce with Riley. Well, not yet.