An Infatuation (13 page)

“What do you think, I got…
have
magnesia
?”

“Mario, why did you kiss me that night?”

“Because I wanted to.” He smiled. “Because I liked you.”

“I liked you too.”
Maybe I should stop this discussion and read to him like I did in high school. Right, like I’m going to find a book in a coach’s office.

Suddenly Mario looked sad. “Harold, when we were kids, the way I behaved. That day Tommy and Keith tried to… hurt you. That night on the phone, when I told you I didn’t care about you. And the night I got drunk and jumped on you—”

“It’s okay, Mario.”

“No, it’s not okay, Harold. I was scared. I freaked out. I talked to you like my father talks to my mother. I was wrong. Totally wrong.”

“I understand.”

He enveloped me with his smile. “You know something, I think you do.” Mario rested his muscular forearm on my undeserving shoulder. “You always understood me.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“Ten years. Not so long ago.” Mario reached for the bottle. “You sure you don’t want a drink?”

“I better not.”

Mario put his arm around me.
Hopefully he’s stretching out a cramp.
He squeezed my shoulder with his thick hand.
I guess not.

“Mario, what are you doing?”

“Making up for lost time.”

“Mario, that was ten years ago.”

“Harold, back in high school you tutored me, listened to my problems, you even filled out my college applications. You wanted so little in return. My affection. I was too afraid to give it to you. I was wrong.” Mario clapped his hands and the lights went out, leaving us bathed in moon glow.

Maybe I do have a concussion.
I looked up at Mario’s sexy silhouette. “Mario, we were kids then.”

“But we’re not kids now.” He tweaked my nose. “Now, looking at you. Sitting next to you. Touching you. It’s clear to me you want the same thing now you wanted back then. And I’m not making the same mistake twice.”

Mario took off his shirt. His strong arms drew me into him, and I felt his mountainous pectoral muscles against my sinking chest. He moved my arms to rest on his massive back, as he massaged the sides of my face with his thick, warm thumbs.

I feel like a cheerleader.

As I felt his biceps bulge on either side of me, he tilted my head up and pressed his lips against mine. As in my frequent fantasies, we shared a sensuous, very adult kiss. Next, he took off my jacket and tie. I ran my hands over his tight, olive skin, caressing his muscular back, shoulders, arms, and neck.
Am I risking my perfect marriage for a fatal attraction?

We kissed again.
Sew the scarlet A on my shirt.

“Ow! Harold, did you just bite me?”

“I think I nibbled on your neck.”

“Why?”

“Stuart likes that.”

“Stuart
likes
that?”

“Um-hm.”

“What is he, a pain freak? Go easy, okay?”

“Okay. But Mario?”

“What?”

“Can we keep the lights on?”

“Why?”

“Well—”

“I know. Stuart likes it with the lights on.” Mario clapped and the lights came back on. He nuzzled his Roman nose into my neck. “Zxxxxx.”

I stiffened.

“What’s wrong?”

“Mario, did you hear that noise?”

“What noise? Zxxxx.”

“That noise.”

“Zxxxx. That?”

“Yes.”

“That was me, Harold.”

“What were you doing?”

“I snorted.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I think Barbara likes it.”

“Barbara
likes
that?”
Was she a pig farmer in another life?

“Yeah. You got…
have
a problem with it?”

“It’s a little weird, Mario.”

“Okay, I’ll cut it out.” Mario leaned in and we shared another passionate kiss.

I pushed him away.

“What’s wrong now?”

“You drooled on my shirt.”

“Then take it off.” Mario took off my shirt. “And get over here.”

We wrapped our arms around one another. It felt like coming home.

“Harold, this feels so good, so right.”

“I know. My Mario. It’s just like in my fantasies.”

Mario reached under the sofa cushion and pulled out a condom. “They’re still here too!” He lay on top of me and began unzipping my pants. “Who says you can’t go back, right, Harold?”

“Wrong.”
Did I just say that?
I sat up.

Mario sat up too. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t do it, Mario.”

“What, you’re
impudent
?”

“No, Mario, I can do it. I just can’t
do
it… with you.” I put my shirt back on.

“I don’t get it. You’ve been after me since we were kids. I know I screwed it up back then, but I can make it right… now.”

“Mario—”

“Harold, what you said back in high school… about the Kinsey Scale. It was true. Gender doesn’t matter. We fall in love with who we fall in love with. I thought I was in love with Barbara, but I wasn’t.” He took my hand. “I was in love with you, but I was too chicken shit back then to admit it.”

I put my hand on the side of his face. “Mario, I dreamed and fantasized about this moment for so many years.”

“So the problem is?”

“One problem is that you are married to Barbara.”

“I can’t stand the sight of her.”

“But she’s still your—”

“She’s cheating on me, Harold. Can you imagine? She’s actually cheating on
me
! With her personal trainer.”

“That is a bit cliché.”

“I know, right?” Mario took another swig of whiskey. “Lots of people come on to me at the gym, at model shoots, at the mall. A lot of people are after my body.”

Imagine that.

“But I didn’t cheat on her, except for a few times, but it didn’t mean anything.” He sat back on the sofa and closed his eyes. “Harold, sometimes I feel like I’m losing my mind. Like I’m going through my life on autopilot. As if I’m watching
myself
in a movie. I don’t feel anything. I’m like stone. Nothing’s real.” He opened his dark eyes and they engulfed me. “But something clicked when I saw you tonight. I looked at you and I felt… human again. You reminded me of who I once was. Who
we
once were…
together
, Mario and Harold.” Mario stared up at the ceiling. “Harold, it’s been so many years covering up my feelings, pretending I’m not…
me
. Pretending that I didn’t want to be with you. Pretending that I didn’t miss you. Sometimes I feel like you’re the only real thing in this whole crazy world.”

Is this one of my Mario fantasies, or the result of hitting my head on the desk?

Mario’s grip on my wrists brought me back to reality. “Harold, I made a big mistake back in high school. You were right. I was hiding behind Barbara. She was my
mustache
. My brother was right too. You were the one back then who got
me
, who was really there for
me
. Who always saw the best in
me
. It
worked
with you. I wanted you then… and I know it’s ten years later, but I want you now. And I know you want me too.” He held my hands. “Harold, we were robbed of all these years together. But it’s only time. We have a second chance…
now
. Let’s give it a try and see what happens. Maybe it’ll work and maybe it won’t, but at least it will be
real
. At least I’ll feel
something
.” He smirked. “And you will too.” He took my hand. “Don’t we owe ourselves the chance to find out? What can we lose?”

I sat on the arm of the sofa. “Mario, I had a major revelation tonight too. You are gorgeous, sexy, wonderful, and perfect.”

“So what was your new revelation?”

I looked at him adoringly. “You are my first love, Mario. My cherished being. I will always be yours… in an alternate reality… in my fantasies.” I stood and put on my jacket. “In the real world, you don’t exist.”

He stood next to me. “Is it because I hurt you back in high school?”

I took his hand. “No, Mario, you could never really hurt me.”

“Then why won’t you give this a chance?”

“Because it’s like giving a dream a chance.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, until you wake up sweating, out of breath… and alone.” I released his hand. “Mario, Stuart is the prince in my life. He’s my perfect partner and mate. He’s my family. He’s… real.”

“And I’m a
phony
?”

“You are Mario the Magnificent. My prince and my perfect partner… in a parallel universe… in my fantasies.”

“It’s not because I smell like moth balls from so many years of being in the closet?”

I laughed. “Mario, you have a lot to work out with Barbara. And I have to make things right with Stuart.”

He grabbed my arm. “So we’re not gonna…?”

“We’re not gonna.”

He looked away. “I’m sorry.”

He’s sorry.
I stood facing him. “Mario, if we got together it could never be as good as in my fantasies.”

He flexed his biceps. “Even though I am still pretty hot, right?”

“Right.” We laughed.

He took my hands. “Harold, you still love me?”

I squeezed his hands. “Like I love every fairy tale my mother ever read to me as a child.”

Mario put on his shirt.

“Mario, I don’t want to ruin your marriage with Barbara.”

“It’s already ruined.”

“And you don’t want to end my marriage with Stuart.”

“I don’t know. I’m a Republican.”

We shared another laugh.

“Most of all, Mario, I don’t want to destroy my memories of
you
.”

He handed me my tie. “I’m disappointed.”

“Maybe someday you’ll meet somebody new.”

He thought about it. “Maybe I’ll meet someone like
you
.”

“If so, don’t tell me about him.”

Mario smiled and put on his jacket.

“Well, Mario, I never thought I’d say these words—let’s go back to the gym.”

Mario blocked my way to the door. “Hey, Stuart’s a lucky and a terrific guy.”

“He sure is. And Barbara is… Barbara.”

“Harold, I’m really sorry we didn’t give this a shot.”

Me too.
“Nothing’s changed, Mario. We still have our fantasies.”

Mario smiled and opened the door. “Harold, this reminds me of that poem you taught me about in high school by Robert what’s his name. Remember the red, red rose? Even though it goes away, after the snow and shit clear up, it comes back again in June… every ten years.” He messed my hair like he did in high school. “Even though we can’t be together, Harold, you’ll always be my red, red rose.”

I told you he was the best.

Mario and I walked back to the gym, where Barbara chewed out Mario for not telling her where he and I had gone. He told her they needed to talk and they left. After saying good-bye to Hannah, Stuart and I left as well.

On the drive home, as my heart pounded out of my chest, I confessed everything to Stuart. My wonderful husband’s response? “At first I was jealous, but I knew you’d pick me over him. I’m glad you got that out of your system, Harold. I love you and I always will.”

When we got into bed that night, I asked, “Stuart, have you ever had an infatuation?”

He turned to me and said, “Yes. You. It’s 11:00 p.m., Harold, so lights out.”

Isn’t he the best?
As we cuddled under the covers awaiting peaceful sleep and pleasant dreams, I felt totally content.

My concerns about the reunion were all for naught. Stuart is the best husband on the planet. And he is all mine. But in the world of my fantasies, I have Mario, my infatuation. Two really is better than one.

CHAPTER NINE/7 YEARS AGO

O
VER
THE
next three years, there was an occasional e-mail or phone call—some hang ups—and a holiday card here and there, but basically Mario remained my fantasy.

When I read in the newspaper that his brother had died in Iraq, I stood in the back of the funeral home while Mario greeted a long line of hysterical relatives. At the burial site, he asked me to put the last flower on the grave, and I did.

Mario was there for me when my mother passed away. We never spoke, but right after the Buddhist monk said his prayer, Mario blew a kiss to me and left.

The last time I’d spoken to Mario was on a Sunday evening three years after the reunion. In honor of my mother, Stuart was creating a schedule for his—and my—new meditation regime. My phone rang, and somehow I knew it was Mario.

“Hi.”

“Mario, it’s good to hear your voice.” I shut the door to my study. “Everything all right?”

“Not really.” He sounded distant.

“What’s wrong?” I felt my pulse quicken.

“Things aren’t working for me here, Harold.”

“What do you mean?”

I heard the clinking of ice in a glass. “I can’t find work for one.”

“What about your modeling work?”

“It dried up. I’m too old, and I gained some weight. Obviously things dried up with Barbara a long time ago.”

“How are the kids?”

“Getting into trouble at school and driving Barbara and me nuts.”

“Mario, do you want to come over and talk?”

“No… thanks.” I heard him gulp down his drink.

“Mario, what is it?”

“I miss my brother.”

“I know. I miss my mom too. How are
your
parents?”

“My mother’s always bitching about something. And my father’s more of a piece of shit sick than when he was well… if he ever was
well
.”

“I’m sorry, Mario.”

“Me, too.” After a pause with more clinking of ice against glass, he added, “Harold, I’m moving away.”

No!
“Where?”

“LA.”

“Why?”

“Fresh start. Fresh air.”

Really?
“Do you know anyone there, Mario?”

“I met some people in New York City who live there. I have a few… prospects for work.”

“What kind of work?”