Baggage Check (26 page)

“Honestly?” she said. “You can start by buying me breakfast.”

*   *   *

The Waffle House in Oreville, Alabama, wasn't much to look at from the outside, but after several days of eating food she had to unwrap, microwave, or both, Rebecca greeted the greasy smells and dingy booths like an old friend. It had been nearly a week since her seafood dinner with Alex, and she had been eating Lean Cuisines, standing in the empty kitchen most nights since then. It was nice to have a meal sitting down, with another human.

She and Jake found their way to a booth near the back, where they could hear the call-and-response of the waitresses and line cooks, speaking a language that was uniquely their own. If you couldn't hear the bacon frying and the old country music playing in the background, you would think you were on a football field, listening to a quarterback calling plays.

“On two, on two…”

Jake ordered a Cherry Coke and a patty melt plate, with hash browns “scattered, covered, smothered, chunked, and topped.” It was his standard order; he didn't even glance at the menu. Rebecca debated for a moment and went with a cheese omelet, grits, and raisin toast, with coffee and an ice water. She was so hungry she thought about ordering more, and then decided this was unladylike. For a minute, they sat in a silence made more awkward by the noisy activity all around them.

“So…?” Rebecca said. They had to start somewhere.

Jake nodded. “Yep, okay. So, I don't know how much Marci told you … I know you guys talked. I'm sorry about that, by the way. It was totally unfair of her to accuse you of trying to steal me away or whatever—why anyone would think I'm worth stealing, I don't know—but ultimately that was my fault and I apologize.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Rebecca said. “She apologized already, but there is no reason for either of you to apologize at all. And you know I have always known what you're worth.”

He blushed. “Anyway, I guess I was a little freaked out about the new pregnancy. I already feel like a lousy father to Bonnie sometimes—”

“But you're a great dad!”

“Thanks. It's hard to tell when you're exhausted all the time. People say how much kids change your life, but you never really understand until it's 5
A.M.
and you have to be at work at seven, and you've been up all night and the baby's crying and you just want some friggin' sleep. I didn't know how much I would love my kid—I love Bonnie so much it hurts. But I guess I wasn't really prepared for the fact that my life would not be mine anymore.”

His eyes dropped to the table where he was fiddling with a straw wrapper. In a low voice, he went on. “And I didn't realize that I'd resent her for it. And Marci. Not all the time, of course, but now and then when I can barely hold up my camera, or I screw up interviewing some prima donna athlete, I would think—”

“You would think how Marci is supposed to be taking care of the baby so you can work,” Rebecca said. She was voicing her own opinion without knowing that she'd held it.

“We don't work that way,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “And it's fine. Really. Marci has her career with writing; I have mine with film; our parents help. We make it work. There are … charts. Lots of charts and lists. I wouldn't want it different, really.”

He seemed to be trying to convince Rebecca of this egalitarian family view, as though she represented all women. Like if he said the wrong thing, she would call up
Feminist Weekly
and report him.

“I can only imagine how hard it is,” she said truthfully. “I can see that it would be hard both ways. This way, you are constantly juggling and you both make sacrifices in every area so you can have family and career. And the other way—”

“The other way,” he said, “Marci wouldn't be Marci, and there would be no point to any of it. I love her, Rebecca, every bit of her. If I can't help structure our family so that she can be a writer if that's what she wants to do, then I'm a crappier husband than everyone thinks I am.”

Rebecca bit her lip. It was hard, even after all the years, to hear him profess his love for Marci so clearly. Even though she had been trying to let go, part of her had been nursing a quiet, guilty hope that perhaps his feelings were at least not as pure as they seemed. To what end? The little voice in her head chided her for the millionth time. The waitress brought their plates.

Jake went on, digging into a pile of steaming chili and toppings that surely must have been covering hash browns, somewhere underneath. “Anyway, I kind of forgot all that in the last few months. I did some stupid things, and I guess I never thought about covering my tracks. I don't know if I underestimated Marci, or if I was just trying to convince myself that I wasn't doing anything wrong.”

“You mean the hotel bills?” She nibbled at the raisin toast.

“Yeah,” he said. He didn't seem surprised that she knew. “It was this little place a few miles from our house, mostly. And also, one overnight trip—not far, just to Knoxville. I said I was doing something on the University of Tennessee athletics director, but somehow Marci managed to find out that he was on vacation with his wife that week. I'm telling you, she could be a private eye if she ever gives up writing.”

“And you were with…” She finally could hold back no longer. “Who?”

“No one,” he said. “I was not cheating on my wife. There has never been anything like that. Not since we got back together. Never.”

She believed him, despite the very damning evidence. Lying had never been his strong suit. “So, what were you—”

“Sleeping.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“I was sleeping. Like I told you, Bec, it's exhausting. My career was suffering, I was getting sick every other week, and I noticed that whenever I had an out-of-town project for work and got to stay in a quiet hotel room by myself, I was so much better focused the next day. At first, I just started trying to book more long-distance gigs, or add on an extra night. And then one day, I had about a three-hour break between a lunch meeting in Athens and an afternoon shoot with the women's gymnastics team, and it was this nice clear day, so I just parked in the student lot and slept for a couple of hours in my car with the windows down.

“It felt so good, I started trying to build those gaps in my day, so I could nap in the car, and after a while I found this one hotel that is pretty clean but does hourly rates—I know it sounds awful—”

“It sounds worse than awful,” Rebecca said.

“I know. Marci wants to have me tested for diseases just from sleeping on the beds, but it really wasn't that bad. Then I could sleep without getting sweaty or worrying someone was going to carjack me or something, and I didn't have to wrinkle my clothes. And from there it just got out of control, I guess.”

“How did Marci react to all this?” she said.

“She is beyond pissed,” he said.

“She doesn't believe you were alone in these hotel rooms?” She raised an eyebrow. She didn't think he would lie, but it really was an unbelievable story.

“Oh, no,” he said. “She believes me. She said this is worse than cheating.”

“How can it be worse?” Rebecca said.

“That's what I said!” For a second, he was more indignant than dejected. “But Marci says, and I guess she's right, that it's a betrayal because all that time I was sleeping in hotel rooms, she was working and cleaning the house and taking care of Bonnie, and that she's just as tired as I am. And I guess she has a point.”

“She does,” Rebecca had to agree.

“I think I really crossed the line when I started changing my schedule around. My mom and Marci's mom are pretty pissed off, too, since they were the ones who always had to come pitch in when I was working late and Marci was on a deadline.”

Rebecca stared at her half-eaten omelet for a moment. Inexplicably, what rose in her throat at that moment was laughter. At first it was a sort of forced, whispered chuckle, but soon she was laughing hysterically, with tears rolling down her cheeks.

Jake smiled tentatively at her. “I don't get the joke,” he said.

“You were sleeping!” she managed, between gasps. “Your wife thought you were fucking some hussy. For a minute, she thought you were fucking me, and you were by yourself, sleeping!”

Rebecca pulled paper napkins from the dispenser to wipe at her eyes, but the laughter would not stop. Jake laughed nervously, glancing around at the other patrons, a couple of whom clearly disapproved of Rebecca's newfound mastery of the word “fuck.” He looked utterly lost, for the first time since she'd known him, and for some reason this was even funnier. Her already sore sides began to cramp, but she could not stop.

“You okay?” he asked her.

She shook her head. “You're a jerk!” she squealed, still laughing and gasping for breath.

“And that's … funny?”

“Yes, it is! My brother is dead, my mom has no idea what year it is, my dad is shacking up with a lunatic who only wears satin robes, I'm on a leave of absence from my job. And my fantasy guy, the man I have been in love with since 2002, is not only married to someone else, he's not even a good husband! Even my vicarious life sucks!” People were staring openly now, and she knew she should stop, but the laughter was turning to convulsive sobs and there was no end in sight.

“Want to get some air?” Jake asked, throwing cash on the table to cover their bill.

She nodded, covering her face with her hands, and allowed him to lead her out. Even behind her hands, she could feel the stares of the Waffle House patrons, mostly an older crowd at this time of the morning. Jake muttered some kind of courtesies as they exited, but she knew everyone was still watching her through the glass. He led her to his truck, the same one he'd been driving for years, and leaned against it, pulling her to him. She allowed him to wrap her in his arms while she fell apart. Jake stroked her hair and shushed her softly while she cried. Until a few weeks ago, she had not cried in years. Now it was becoming her thing.

After a moment, she gathered her breath and pulled back from him, where she'd left tear stains on his dark-blue T-shirt. He handed her one of the paper Waffle House napkins and she wiped her face, taking deliberate deep breaths as she did. Jake brushed her hair back from her face. “Okay?” he said.

She nodded.

“I really am a terrible husband,” he said, with a sad smile.

She shrugged. “I still think Marci could do worse. You love her so much.”

“I do,” he said. He was looking at her kindly. “I owe you an apology, Rebecca.”

She shook her head.

“I have to say this,” he said. “I've known for years how you felt about me, and I've never really acknowledged it, because I value our friendship—”

“Oh, God, don't say ‘value our friendship,' please.”

“It's true, I do. I care about you. I love you, Rebecca. Not in the same way I love Marci, but I do love you and you deserved to hear from me exactly what my feelings were, and were not.”

“I think it was pretty obvious when you married someone else,” Rebecca said. She was trying not to draw the parallel between this conversation and what she had said to Alex on Saturday. “I'm not stupid, Jake.”

“You are not stupid,” he agreed. “But you have been holding on to me, to the idea of us, even when you knew it wasn't possible. And I … I have to admit that I've let you do it.”

“What?” she said.

He shrugged. “I told myself I was sparing your feelings, being a gentleman.”

“But you weren't?”

“Not entirely. I was also being a coward, not wanting to disturb the waters. Once Marci and I had worked it out, I figured it would just sort of resolve itself. Plus, if I'm being really honest—”

“Why stop now?” she said.

“I liked the attention.”

“You did?”

He looked at his feet. “Sure. What guy wouldn't enjoy a beautiful woman directing her affection at him? And it was kind of flattering, the way I could always make you laugh. Not to mention how Marci always got a little possessive when you were around.”

“Jesus, Jake.”

A sly, embarrassed grin crossed his features. “I know. I'm ashamed to even say it. Needless to say, I think Marci is going to be pretty possessive all the time for a while. I'll be lucky to get out of this without having to wear an ankle bracelet.”

Rebecca gaped at him. “I was wrong,” she said. “You're not a jerk. You're a complete asshole.”

“Yeah,” he said, shuffling his feet. “But the good news is, this asshole is at your service for the next few days.”

“Well, thanks,” she said. “And I have to say, I appreciate your honesty about … us. I know that's not easy to say to someone you care about.”

He nodded. “I really do care about you, I hope you believe that. I do think you're beautiful. And I would be lying if I said I wasn't tempted four years ago, that one night at my apartment, do you remember?”

“Are you kidding? Of course I do.”

“If I had never met Marci—,” he began.

“You'd be lost and miserable,” she finished for him.

“Yes, I would,” he said. “But whoever ends up with you is going to be a lucky guy.”

“Oh, God, don't say that either. It's such a cliché. You're making it worse.”

“Okay, fine,” he said. “If I ever were going to cheat on my wife with some hussy, you would be the first hussy I would call. How's that?”

She punched him in the arm, hard, and they both laughed. He pulled her to him in a rough hug, the way Cory used to do when she was a kid, right before he'd give her a noogie on her head with his fist. This playful violence was perhaps unfortunate, since at that moment, a patrol car pulled up next to them, lights flashing.