Baggage Check (7 page)

The hand on her shoulder seemed to radiate warmth. She knew she should turn and walk back to the safety of the fire and the gaze of other people. But her feet were glued to the sand. “Congratulations again on the new pregnancy,” she said. She wasn't sure if she was building a bridge between them or trying to tear one down.

“Yes. It's … it's such a blessing. Of course.”

The thing was, and Rebecca didn't think she was imagining this, he didn't
sound
blessed. She hesitated. “I'm sure you're thrilled to have another baby. Bonnie is so beautiful.”

“She's the light of my life,” he said. This much was genuine. “And, yeah, I'm thrilled, it's just—”

“Hey guys,” Suzanne said suddenly. Rebecca jumped. She hadn't heard anyone approaching over the sound of the waves. And the blood pumping in her ears.

“Hey there, Mrs. Dylan Burke.” Jake did not remove his hand, but simply put his other arm around Suzanne so that he was draped between the two of them. It was an affectionate gesture. Brotherly.

“Ugh, don't say that,” Suzanne said. Without looking, Rebecca knew Suzanne was wrinkling her nose. “It makes me feel old.”

“You'd better get used to it,” Jake said. He kissed Suzanne on the cheek. “Congratulations, Suze. Really. He's a good guy, especially for a famous person.”

“Thanks, Jakie,” Suzanne said, using the nickname she'd had for him in college. How was it possible that had been almost fifteen years ago? “Now we just need to find the right guy for Rebecca. Don't you know anyone? Maybe one of those pro football players from your film? Just think, she could be on the
Real Housewives of Atlanta
in a couple of years.”

Jake mumbled something to the ocean. Rebecca felt humiliation rising in her chest. “Actually,” she said impulsively, “Rebecca is already seeing someone.”

Suzanne's shock was visible even in the dim light from the fire behind them. “What? Who? Why didn't you mention this?”

“You didn't ask,” Rebecca said. “He's a pilot.”

“Really?” Suzanne said. “How wonderful. Anyone I've met?”

Rebecca was already regretting the lie. “No, he flies the international routes. His name is…” She searched her database of pilots for someone who was real and single. Better to keep a lie as close to the truth as possible. “Sandy.”

“Sandy. What's he like? Why have you been keeping him secret?”

Rebecca thought about the real-life Sandy, a pilot she flew with once every couple of months back and forth to London.
Because he's twenty years older than me and kind of a dick, actually. He has a mustache that looks like a dead mouse and he's always telling gross, racist stories about venereal diseases he picked up when he flew the Asian routes. Oh God, why did I do this?

“Well, he is recently divorced.” In truth, she thought Sandy had been divorced for about a decade, but he still referred to his ex-wife in such bitter terms it felt recent. “And obviously since we work together…”

She trailed off, hoping that the vague implication would be enough to placate Suzanne. It wasn't. “So, is it serious?”

Jake looked at her now, too. “Well, sort of,” Rebecca stammered. “I mean, it's still early in the relationship. So, no. I guess not serious yet.”

They waited for her to expand on what she'd said. Rebecca, however, had no earthly idea what to say next. Why had she lied? She was lonely, yes. She could admit that. But was she really so bad off that she had to make up fake relationships?

Fortunately, Marci emerged from the beach house and called to Jake, who waved at her and walked up toward the house. “I am glad you're seeing someone,” Suzanne said when they were alone. “We've all been a little worried about you. Especially Jake and Marci. Jake is really fond of you, you know. I mean, we all are.”

The tone in Suzanne's voice was unreadable, and her eyes were fixed on the bonfire twenty feet away. “Mmm…,” Rebecca said, noncommittal. At least tonight, there was one topic she knew was safe. “Congratulations again, Suzanne. I know you and Dylan will be really happy together.”

Suzanne bit her lip. “I'm afraid so,” she said, admiring her new husband, who was arguing animatedly with Jeff about something while Kate shook her head and laughed. “I don't really know how to be a wife, though. Long-term relationships aren't exactly my specialty.”

“You'll be great,” Rebecca said. “It's one of those things you can only do well when the time is right.”
As though I know a damn thing about it.

“Thanks, Rebecca,” Suzanne said. “I can't believe you did all this. It's wonderful.”

“You weren't disappointed? I mean, it wasn't fancy.”

“Are you kidding? It couldn't have been more perfect.” Suzanne kissed her on the cheek and Rebecca flushed. They waded arm in arm through the powdery sand and rejoined the others at the fire.

 

8

Everyone stayed up until long after midnight, drinking beer and dancing in the sand by the fire. Rebecca spent the evening deflecting curious questions about her imaginary relationship with the nonexistent Sandy, and fighting off pangs of envy as the three couples nuzzled and slow danced in the sand around the fire. Beth, who was also alone, disappeared for a while to talk to Ray and check on the kids. When she was satisfied that they were surviving without her, she set about to make herself very drunk.

Rebecca didn't like to drink heavily—she was never happy feeling out of control, especially in big groups—so she watched with bemusement as Beth got sillier and sillier, saying over and over how she never got to do this anymore.

The beach house had four bedrooms: a large master on one end with its own huge bathroom, where Suzanne and Dylan spent their first night as a married couple, and three smaller bedrooms in a row on the other side. One of these had a queen-sized bed, and doors to the living room and the back deck. This had originally been where Rebecca and Beth were sleeping, but was now designated for Marci and Jake. Another had a double bed and large windows facing the front of the house, across from a sizable shared bathroom. Kate had already been in this room and now Jeff was with her.

Wedged in between those two cozy rooms was a narrow space Rebecca suspected had been squeezed in somehow to make the house more appealing for rentals to families. It had none of the understated elegance of the rest of the house, and was dusty from disuse. Apparently the housekeeping service often skipped over it. It had a single fluorescent light, and exactly enough space for a set of cheap wooden bunk beds with dated fish-themed comforters, Rebecca and Beth's suitcases, and a tall corner bookshelf with baskets for clothes and a tiny TV on the top shelf. There was no closet, and no other furniture, just a worn rag rug on the linoleum floor. Of course, Suzanne never would have booked this house if she had known the guys would be joining them, and she and Dylan both offered to either go to a hotel themselves or to pay for Beth and Rebecca to stay elsewhere.

That, Rebecca and Beth had both insisted, was ridiculous. The hassle alone of moving themselves and their stuff late in the evening would have been enough of an obstacle, even if Beth had not been three sheets to the wind by the end of the night. Now that the clock had struck one in the morning and Beth was passed out on the couch with her cell phone in her hand, Rebecca was beginning to wish she had taken Dylan and Suzanne up on their offer.

The dingy linoleum floor seemed even dirtier by the light of the greenish bulb overhead than it had during the day. Rebecca could not help but notice the dead fly on the tiny windowsill and a fine layer of sand on the bedspreads when she touched them. She heard muffled giggles coming from Kate and Jeff's room as she pulled back the covers to inspect the sheets. She decided to try some affirmations from the book.
These sheets are clean, they are just a little dusty, and beach houses have sand everywhere. Sand won't hurt me. Dust won't hurt me. Facing my discomfort will only make me stronger.

She slipped into her pajamas, trying to focus on how tired she was. How quickly she would fall asleep. “Facing my discomfort will only make me stronger,” she said softly. She turned off the light and promptly hit her head on the top bunk as she climbed into bed. The sheets were clean, but they still had the faint musty odor of neglect in a humid place. Rebecca closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “In a few minutes, I won't even notice the smell. Facing my discomfort will make me stronger.”

Through the wall next to her, Rebecca heard Kate and Jeff murmuring to one another, with occasional laughter interspersed. “I am alone, but I am not lonely,” she said. Soon, the talking died down and in its place she heard the telltale rhythmic groan of bedsprings.
Oh, no. Please don't let this go on for long.
Soon, she heard panting and soft moaning accompanying the sounds of the bed. She held the pillow over her ears, but the sounds grew louder and higher pitched. She could not help but notice that Kate seemed to really be enjoying herself, which struck Rebecca as funny.

During the day, Kate seemed demure almost to the point of mousiness, but there was nothing demure about the noises she was making now. In spite of herself, Rebecca smiled, wondering what kind of lover Jeff really was. Gentle? Passionate? She had only ever seen Jeff laughing and joking and being a bit crass. It was hard to imagine him with the serious face of someone consumed by passion. Despite trying her best to tune them out, and feeling slightly repulsed that she was overhearing something so intimate, Rebecca began to feel a familiar tightening in her lower belly. Desire. But for whom? Her hand traveled beneath her pajamas and skimmed the top of her panties.

Ugh.
What was she doing? She got up from the bed and turned on the light, searching for the earplugs she kept in her bag at all times. She spent half her life at airport hotels, and the earplugs were indispensable. She found them, her hand grazing the purple velvet bag as she retrieved them.

She turned back toward the bed and flicked off the light. As if on cue, she now heard talking from the room on the other side. Jake and Marci were louder, though thankfully it sounded more like arguing than anything else. Were they arguing? She stood and removed the earplugs. A little ashamed of eavesdropping, she listened anyway, trying to catch what was said. She could only make out tone, and thought maybe Jake was reprimanding Marci for something. Marci sounded defiant at first, and then softened. Meanwhile, Kate squealed rather loudly and Jeff moaned audibly. There was a rhythmic banging sound that must be their headboard hitting the wall. This was unbearable.

She put the earplugs in and got back into bed. Now she could only hear the banging sound, and she shuddered at the thought that children might stay in this room on family vacations while their parents were getting it on next door.
What I Learned on My Summer Vacation
.

Rebecca tried to sleep, but to no avail. Kate and Jeff quieted for a few minutes, during which Rebecca took the earplugs out again and strained to hear what was going on in Jake and Marci's room. Just as she began picking up a stray word here and there—“baby,” “our life,” and something she was fairly sure was “manipulated”—Kate began to giggle in the other room, and the sounds of passion started anew on the right side. Rebecca put the earplugs back in, this time adding the pillow over her head for good measure, and tried to think about the travel schedule to and from Cincinnati. And then San Diego, New York–LaGuardia, and Seattle. She forced herself to visualize the schedules in front of her, numbers swimming in and out of her mind's eye as she tossed and turned and squeezed the pillow over her head.

Nothing helped. The high-pitched breathy sounds found their way to her ears no matter how she tried to drown them out. And despite her best efforts to think of anything else, her body began to ache and throb without her permission.
Are they making a porno in there or something?
Rebecca knew she would never look at little Kate the same way again, and she was glad for Jeff's sake that his brother-in-law's room was all the way across the house, or he might be out of a job for what he was doing to Dylan's little sister.

Rebecca could not remember the last time anyone had made her feel the way Kate sounded right now. Maybe it had never happened at all. She had dated men, of course, and even had a few relationships that lasted several months. And like nearly everyone in the airline industry, she had to own up to a couple of careless nights with charming pilots and men she'd met in bars. But no one had ever inspired that kind of
abandon
. She had never been a wild girl, and always preferred what she assumed was pretty standard sex. She liked the feel of a man on top of her, in a dark, quiet room. She liked the lights off and the covers up, and soft, hot breath in her ear. Even
that
had been months ago at this point, the last time anyone had touched her at all. Her pulsing ache deepened, grew more insistent.

She stood up, breathless. The purple velvet bag burned out of her suitcase in the corner as though it were on fire. “No,” she said softly, feeling giddy just at the thought of it. “Not here.”

But why not?

As she paced in the tiny room, she could now hear that Jake and Marci had lowered their voices, and while the sound was muffled, it was clear from the location that they were now in bed, too.
Just leave, Rebecca. Go to a hotel. Does your self-torture know no bounds? Do you have to picture him naked with her?

Suddenly she saw him, not with Marci, but back in Athens. He was twenty years old or so, peeling off a sweaty T-shirt after basketball in the intramural gym. Rebecca did not remember now why it had been only she waiting for him after his game—they were headed to some event that had long ago faded in her memory. But she could still feel the bleachers pressing into the back of her thighs as she'd watched him play—wholesome and strong and vigorous. And when he leaned bare chested toward her to throw the soggy shirt into his bag, he had given her a sheepish grin that made his perfect body even more …