Covet (15 page)

claire

In late October, Chris’s boss informs him that he’ll be on the road for the next two weeks, with no time to fly home on the weekend. “I’m sorry,” he says when he calls me from his hotel room to break the news.

“It’s okay,” I say. It’s not like it matters if I’m okay with it or not. It’s going to happen anyway.

I should be upset, and I do feel horrible for the kids, but the more Chris travels, the more I adapt to our current household situation. When he comes home he disrupts the routine I’ve so carefully put in place to give the kids a sense of normalcy, and I’m the one who deals with the fallout when he leaves again. It takes at least a day for everyone to adjust. Josh gets moody and won’t listen, and Jordan develops an unnatural attachment to her stuffed animals, especially the ones Chris has bought her since he’s been out on the road. He’s gone so often that now it feels odd sharing a bed with him on the weekends. Before he lost his job, we used to go upstairs at the same time every night, to make love, to watch TV, to talk. Sometimes all three. Now he stays up late working and when he finally slips between the sheets it wakes me up and I toss and turn for hours, trying to get back to sleep.

It’s not that I’m happy about him being gone—far from it. It’s just that Chris being gone is now what I’m used to.

 • • • 

The brilliant sunshine and the soaring temperatures of a brief, last burst of Indian summer at the end of the month offer a temporary respite from the approaching chill of fall. The kids are ecstatic and on our way to the bus stop Jordan asks if we can go to the swimming pool after school. “How about the park?” I say as we walk to the bus stop. “The pools are all closed until next summer.” She sighs and reluctantly agrees that the park will have to do.

My phone rings as I’m walking back into the house. I answer it and say, “Hey.”

“Let’s go for a ride,” Daniel says. “It might be the last one for a while.”

I’m just as eager to enjoy the last few warm days of the season so I say, “Sure. That sounds fun.”

“You’re not too busy today?”

“I have a few things I’m working on, but I can pick them back up tonight when the kids go to bed.”

“Great. Noon?”

“Sure. See you then.”

When I arrive at Daniel’s he’s standing in the doorway. He watches me walk toward him and my breath catches a little when he smiles. I remember when Chris’s face used to brighten like that whenever I walked into the room. How the smile reached all the way to the corners of his eyes.

“Hi,” he says. “How are you?”

“I’m great,” I say. “It’s beautiful out. Jordan wanted to know if we could go swimming when she got home from school.”

Daniel laughs. “It’s certainly warm enough.” He appraises me quickly from head to toe, to make sure I’m dressed properly; I know better than to show up in short sleeves, no matter how high the temperature is, so I’m wearing a long-sleeved cotton T-shirt, a light jacket, jeans, and tennis shoes. No flip-flops on the motorcycle.

In the garage, I pull the helmets off the shelf while Daniel pushes the bike out onto the driveway and shuts the door. He grabs the end of my helmet strap and buckles it for me, giving it a gentle tug to make sure it’s tight enough. I’m perfectly capable of doing this myself, but I don’t say anything. After he puts his own helmet on he swings a leg over and I do the same, adjusting my position on the seat and settling in behind him.

The hum of the engine fills my ears and then Daniel puts the bike in gear. When we reach the highway and he opens up the throttle he doesn’t have to tell me to put my head down. I’ve been waiting for this, for him to go faster, so I could have a legitimate excuse to curve my body around his. Something tells me he’s been waiting for it, too. That maybe the main reason for asking me to go on a ride had nothing to do with the beautiful weather and everything to do with us being able to touch each other, to feel.

I hook my thumbs in his belt loops. The warmth of the sun beats down on me and I turn my head sideways and rest it on Daniel’s back. It isn’t ideal, because of the bulky helmet, but I feel boneless, liquid, pliant, as if I’ve taken on the shape of Daniel. Aching for physical contact, I want someone to hold me and I wish I was in front and Daniel was in back, but I’ll take what I can get. Unable to resist, I inch forward a little more, tightening my hold on him and gripping him with my thighs. He notices, I know he does, because he turns his head back toward me for a second.

We ride for a long time and then Daniel pulls over at a gas station to refuel. I uncoil myself from him and get off the bike. We both take off our helmets. “How’s your butt?” he asks.

He watches as I place the helmet on the ground, stretch my arms over my head, and arch my back, working out the kinks. “Not too bad. How about you?”

“I’m fine. I’m used to it.”

I hold his helmet while he pumps the gas and when he’s done we walk inside.

“Do you want something to drink?” he asks.

“Sure.” We walk to the cooler. My hands are full with both helmets so Daniel grabs a regular Coke and scans the shelves for my drink. “No Snapple,” he says.

“That’s okay. Diet Coke is fine.”

After he pays we walk outside and Daniel pushes the bike away from the pump, toward a grassy area with one lone tree. I put the helmets down beside it.

“Thanks,” I say when he hands me my drink.

Daniel opens his Coke, takes a big swallow, and runs his fingers through his hair. Shrugging out of my jacket, I sit cross-legged on the grass, in the shade of the tree, and redo my ponytail so that it’s high up on my head and the hair is off my neck. I instantly feel cooler. Daniel sits beside me, his legs stretched out in front of him.

“Are you hot?” he asks.

“Yes. Especially my neck. It’s all this hair.”

He takes another drink. “I like your hair.”

I pull my phone out of my pocket to make sure I haven’t missed any calls.

“Everything okay?” Daniel asks.

“Yep. Just checking.” I take another drink. “How long will it take us to get back?”

“About forty-five minutes.”

“We should probably head out soon.”

“Okay,” he says.

We finish our drinks and I tell him I need to use the restroom. On the way into the gas station I drop our empty cans in the recycle bin near the door. When I come back out, Daniel is standing beside the bike with his helmet on. I walk toward him, taking my hair out of its high ponytail and gathering it into a knot down low. Daniel holds my helmet in his hands, but instead of handing it over he puts it on me, tucking my hair into it and reaching under my chin to buckle the strap.

“I can do that myself, you know.”

“I know,” he says, and then he slides down my visor until it clicks into place. Once we’re on the bike I put my hands on his waist and he starts the engine. He turns around and even though his voice is a bit muffled, I can understand him when he says, “Hold on tight.”

When the ride is over Daniel pulls into the driveway and parks the bike next to the garage. I climb off and remove my helmet. “What time is it?” he asks, flipping up his visor so I can hear him.

“Time for me to get going. I have to meet the bus in less than an hour, and I have a couple of errands to run on the way home.” It’s convenient having a cut-off time. It takes the decision out of my hands. I have no choice but to go.

He puts down the kickstand, climbs off the bike, and unbuckles his helmet, setting it on the ground next to mine. There’s an expression on his face I’ve never seen before, and I swear his eyes look different, like the pupils are darker than usual.

Daniel follows me to my car. Pausing with my hand on the door, I turn to say good-bye, leaning up against the car, never completely sure what to say. And never sure about what he’s thinking. “Thanks for the ride,” I say, smiling at him. “It was a great way to spend the day.”

He’s not smiling. He’s staring at me and it looks as if he’s studying my mouth, but then he looks away for a moment. He turns back to me and says, “Come again tomorrow?”

I’ve already come once this week, but I meet his gaze and say, “Yes.”

 • • • 

Elisa and I take the kids to the park after school. The temperature may be atypical, but the leaves are changing right on schedule and their red and yellow colors blaze like fiery sunsets as we make our way through the tree-lined streets, trailing slightly behind the kids. Once we arrive we settle ourselves at a picnic table and watch them scatter, eager to hit the monkey bars and play on the swings.

“This weather is absolutely gorgeous,” I exclaim. We’ve surely surpassed the forecasted high of eighty, and I turn my face to the sun, closing my eyes and letting the rays warm my skin. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. Jordan rushes over and hands me her stuffed kitty. “Will you hold this for me, Mommy?”

I smile and cradle the kitty on my lap. “Of course.”

“How long can we stay at the park?” she asks. No matter how long we stay, Jordan always wants to stay longer. The park is her favorite place and she usually has to be coerced to leave. “We’ll stay until dinnertime, if you want.”

“And then we’ll go to McDonald’s?” she asks, smiling brightly as though this fantastic idea has just occurred to her even though it’s probably been percolating in the back of her mind since she got off the school bus.

“Sure,” I say. What the hell. It will make her and Josh’s day.

“Yay!” She scampers off, announcing the good news to her brother, joining him and Travis near the slide.

“You’re in a good mood,” Elisa says. She twists the cap off a bottle of water and takes a drink. “You’ve been smiling for the last half hour.”

I’m still feeling relaxed from the motorcycle ride with Daniel. “It’s been a good day,” I answer truthfully.

“It’s so great to see you like this,” Elisa continues. “I know it’s hard with Chris out of town all the time, but you seem so much happier. I knew things would get better.” She smiles brightly, satisfied that everything has worked out okay. Elisa’s eternal optimism is one of the things I love about her the most, but she’s way off in her assessment.

I take a deep breath and say, “I spent the day with Daniel Rush.”

Her forehead creases as she mentally filters through the names in her head and her eyes widen. “The ridiculously good-looking cop?” she asks.

“Yes. It wasn’t the first time, either.”

“Oh, Claire. Are you serious?” She looks so disappointed in me.

“It’s not what you think,” I say. “We’re just friends.”

Her relief upon hearing this clarification is evident in her expression. I can almost see the tension drain out of her when she realizes I’m not having an affair with Daniel. “Okay,” she says, nodding as if she’s analyzing the information. “How did this happen?”

I tell her about finishing the logo project and how Daniel kept in touch. I tell her about the flat tire and the phone calls and texts. “Didn’t Travis tell you he stopped by when the boys had their lemonade stand?”

“He just said he got stickers and tattoos when he was at your house. I assumed you gave them to him.”

“No, Daniel did.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Not long. Since mid-August.”

She’s silent, and I mistake it for disapproval. “I would never cheat on Chris,” I say, clutching Jordan’s kitty tighter and examining it so I have something to do with my hands and don’t have to look at her. “I still love him. I just don’t feel very connected to him right now.”

“I’ve known you for five years, Claire.” She turns to me and I finally meet her gaze. Her expression is a mixture of caring and understanding. “I know you know right from wrong. I also know that the last year has been hard on you and Chris. But he loves you, too. I truly believe that.”

“Sometimes I wonder,” I say. “I was thinking about it the other day, and worrying that maybe Chris and I got married too young, before we really knew each other well enough. This is the first real test of our marriage and we’re failing. What if our current problems have nothing to do with him being out of work? And now being gone all the time? Maybe he’s not in love with me anymore.” I rest my head in my hands, massaging my temples. If this is true, I’m not sure that there’s anything I can do to fix it. “But you and Skip got married young, younger than us even. And look at you. You’re so happy.”

Elisa snorts. “Let me tell you a story about me and Skip. Because things weren’t always so great between us.”

This admission surprises me, because I’ve never seen two people who are more in love. I forget sometimes that I didn’t know Elisa and Bridget and Julia until we became neighbors. We’re friends—genuine friends—but that’s due more to our physical location, our proximity to each other, than anything else. I know about their present, but I wasn’t there for their pasts. I turn toward Elisa, eager to hear what she has to say.

“I started dating Skip in college, you know that part already.”

“Yes.” Elisa was a sophomore at Baylor when she met Skip in a bar on an otherwise boring Thursday, on her way home from studying at the library with her sorority sisters.

“He was the quintessential big man on campus: handsome, personable, and a star quarterback who also made pretty good grades. Everyone expected big things from him and he delivered every time. I fell in love with him, and I fell hard. He did, too. But dating a football player, especially one as revered as Skip, didn’t come without challenges. Girls threw themselves at him constantly, and his ego was out of control. I was only twenty, and I had a jealous side that reared its ugly head frequently, especially if I’d had too much to drink.”

I have a hard time picturing Elisa—the epitome of Southern charm and grace—as a jealous, beer-swilling co-ed.

“By the time we were juniors, our relationship had deteriorated to toxic levels. Screaming, fighting, flinging accusations at each other, almost all of them unfounded. I needed him, though, and he needed me, too, no matter how much of a mess we made of the relationship. Then, toward the end of my junior year, I got pregnant.”

I do the math. Not Travis.

“Surprisingly, the news that he would be a father made Skip happy. The scouts were filling his head with dreams of being drafted by the NFL and I guess he pictured me and the baby waiting at home while he lived the dream, posing for pictures and granting interviews. We got married at the courthouse when I was eight weeks along and forty-eight hours later I lost the baby.” Elisa turns toward me, tears in her eyes. “That changes everything. At least it did for me. Even though I knew I was being irrational, I couldn’t believe Skip would want to stay married now that there was no baby. Now it was just him and me and a tiny apartment off campus.
Sports Illustrated
is never interested in a picture of that. Then, during our senior year, he blew out his knee in the third game of the season.”