Thou Shalt Not (13 page)

Just teasing!
I immediately added.

Then there was silence. One minute passed, then two. Then three.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I called her husband crazy and crossed the line. I hadn’t been trying to be disrespectful. Fuck!

Holly walked out of the bathroom in a navy blue and white sundress, looking like she was ready for a night out on a boat. The dress deepened the blue of her eyes, and even from a distance my first thought was of wanting to dive into her eyes for a swim.

“What’s that smell?” she asked.

“It’s the smell of sex, I think,” I replied, smiling. I had no pocket to drop my phone into, so instead, I reached down and picked up the rest of the clothes that had been strewn about the living room.

“No, smartass. I know what sex smells like. This smells like food. Like chili or something.”

The posole. I immediately had to decide how much I was going to tell her about the origins of the meal. Obviously, I couldn’t say it came from a married woman who made my heart race.

Why the hell not?
I asked myself.
You guys aren’t in a relationship!

That might be true, but whether you declared yourself to be in a relationship or not, sometimes your actions said completely otherwise, and we were walking that tightrope if we hadn’t already fallen off.

“It’s a soup. One of my coworkers made it for me and gave it to me today.”

“What kind?”

“It’s called posole. It’s actually really good. You should try some.”

“Is it spicy?”

“Yeah, it’s got a little kick.”

“Perfect.”

I heated up a small amount to let her try some, and she was almost as impressed as I was. However, she had no frame of reference to compare it to like I had.

“Wow. Who did you say made it? This is goddamn delicious.”

“A lady named April. She’s probably going to be the one who takes over Robin’s class.”

I
didn’t bother telling her that I had only known April a week and that she was already texting and making me soup. Minor details like that seemed easy to leave out.

“Well, make sure you stay friends with her then. I can see myself wanting to eat this again.”

I still needed to shower before we went out for dinner, so I excused myself to the bathroom.

Immediately, I checked my phone to see if she had responded. She hadn’t. I was tempted to text and apologize, much like she had after wondering if I was bullshitting her.

But instead, I chose to shower quickly. The couple of spoonfuls of soup had reminded me how hungry I actually was. The reception food had been of the finger variety, so I avoided it altogether and had chosen to talk to people in place of eating.

There was still no message when I got out of the shower, as we were driving to the restaurant, or as we sat down at the table.

Holly loved seafood, and seeing as how living near the beach in Florida offered a plethora of options, we often chose the restaurant with the nicer views. We had settled on a place called Pelican Pete’s. The restaurant was facing the Gulf of Mexico, and the back dock of the restaurant offered stunning views of the sun setting over the water. We had picked the right time for dinner as we were being treated to a particularly beautiful sunset.

She ordered Mahi and I ordered the scallops. I excused myself to the bathroom, in hopes of seeing a text from April, but I was disappointed once again.

Just text her one more time
, I told myself. She did it a few times earlier.
What do you have to lose?

But when she texted back, it was immediately after sending the first one, not over an hour later. Now you just look desperate if you send another one.

I wasn’t even sure it was all that important that she texted me back, truthfully. The world wasn’t going to end if I just let it go. And if I sent another message that got ignored, then I would really feel like a jackass.

Often I found myself going against my better judgment, and often I found myself regretting it. This time, I turned my phone’s vibration mode off, and put it back in my pocket. I wouldn’t be texting her back this evening unless she responded. I felt good about my decision.

I walked back out to the dock where our table was, and Holly was on her phone. A pelican was perched behind her up on the railing that went along the dock. From my angle, it looked like the bird was going to take a gulp out of the back of Holly’s head. For some reason, this made me laugh. But as I sat down at the table, I realized from Holly’s tone that things were not good.

“Is it Kyle?” I mouthed silently.

She shook her head.

“Brad, what the fuck?” she said loudly.

A few of the other patrons at nearby tables glanced over at the sound of loud profanity, but none seemed to be too offended.

Brad was Holly’s youngest brother. I think he was nineteen or twenty, and was currently attending a local community college and rooming with a friend and the friend’s family. He was doing okay for himself, but as the oldest, Holly always worried about him. She called him pretty regularly, checked up on him often, made sure he was studying and not slacking too much.

“So, you’re out? Just like that?”

She leaned her head forward and rested it on her fist. If her face hadn’t looked so upset, she might have looked a little like The Thinker.

“Well, I know you don’t, but now you have no choice, do you? You fucked up, Brad. You fucked up.”

She was shaking her head, and I don’t think it was voluntary. Then she sighed and her tone changed.

“But, it’s not the end of the world, okay? Just be there in an hour. I might be late but you will just have to wait.”

“Because I’m out to dinner, all right? Just get your shit together, and I’ll get there when I get there.”

With that, she hung up and made like she was going to slam her phone into the table.

I thought about asking “Is everything okay?” but it was obvious that it wasn’t. People often asked dumb shit because they didn’t stop to think about what they were saying, but my mom always taught me to think before I spoke. If only she had taught me to think before I hit send on a text message.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“It’s Brad,” she sighed, as the waiter approached the table with our dinner. He gave me my plate first, which really irritated me since it seemed like common courtesy to serve the lady first. I planned on adding that to my list of determining factors regarding the size of the tip he would receive. The fact that he had an overall unkempt look to him, and very disturbing and visible nose hair would also factor in.

When Carl the cruddy waiter was gone, Holly continued.

“He was staying with that family I was telling you about. You know, the Mitchells?”

I nodded.

“Well, they have a pretty strict no alcohol policy in the house on account that they have a fifteen-year-old son living there also.”

“Oh boy,” I said, as I could see where this was going.

“Yeah, exactly. So the bastard goes and gets drunk with Kevin at a party, and they decide to come home with a few extra bottles they swiped from the party stash.”

“The Mitchells kicked him out?”

“Goddamn right they did. And I don’t blame them. God, he knows not to do this shit. He saw what it did to our parents.”

“Well, he is a guy,” I offered. “We do stupid shit no matter how many times we see a bad example go flying by our faces.”

She cracked a smile. “That’s true.”

“So, he’s going to stay at your place then?”

“Yeah, I don’t think he has anywhere else to go. And I need to keep an eye on him. I swear he’s a baby sometimes. You have to follow him around everywhere to make sure he doesn’t do something stupid.”

She just shook her head again and started in on her dinner, clearly done talking about Brad. The rest of the meal was enjoyed in relative silence, minus our positive comments about the food, and our negative ones about Creepy Carl.

“I guess you are going to have to go back and stay at your apartment now that he’s there?” I asked as we drove back to my house.

“Yes,” she said, sounded rather dejected. “I was really enjoying staying with you. But, I’m sure you’re glad to get rid of me for a while.”

“Not true,” I said. “I told you that you hadn’t worn out your welcome yet.”

“Brad said he would start asking around tomorrow. So, maybe he won’t be there for long. But, you never know with him.”

When we got back to the house, we went inside and I helped her get her things and take them out to her car. We kissed before she got in the car, and then with her window rolled down once she was in the car. She started the engine, looked up at me, and said, “Don’t miss me too much.” And with that, she was gone.

It was after 9, and I changed and plopped down on the couch to check and see how the Rays were doing. They were playing in Detroit, and would play one more game there the next day before coming home for a while. This, of course, meant the return of dear Marco to the area.

I turned the vibration and sound on my phone back on, and still had yet to receive a reply from April. It was pretty much a foregone conclusion that I wouldn’t be hearing from her for the rest of the evening.

As I watched the Rays continue to get pummeled (10-3 in the seventh inning), my thoughts went to work the next day. I had planned on missing the entire week and had given the substitute plenty of movies to watch with the kids. But, as I had found myself feeling a lot better than I had expected to earlier in the day at the funeral and then at the reception, I informed West that I would be back the next day. I would probably just let the kids finish the movies, but it would still be nice to be there and get back to the grind, especially with Holly no longer there to keep me company.

My text tone went off and my heart froze for a second, thinking it might finally be April. But it was Holly, thanking me for dinner and for dealing with her “shitty drama.”

I was typing a reply as I heard “suspended by the Rays for one game for conduct detrimental to the team. The manager and GM will decide on whether or not to extend the suspension.” I paused mid-text, hoping they would mention the name of the person they were talking about. But they resumed calling the game, so I had to get up and find the remote to rewind it back. Thank God for the technology that let people rewind back to things they missed. I have no idea how anyone survived without this.

I rewound back a minute and hit play.

“He got into a verbal shouting match with the manager, reportedly throwing a bat and bucket of balls across the locker room. So, Batista was suspended by the Rays for one game for conduct detrimental to the team...”

Oh my god. Maniac Marco got suspended for going berserk.

I laughed. I admit it, I laughed. The fucker really WAS crazy. God, I hoped she didn’t think I was referring to the suspension when I called him that. But, what great timing.

I hit fast-forward until I reached real time. They had gone back to talking about Marco.

“Batista will serve the suspension tomorrow and will fly back with the team tomorrow night. Whether he will be available to pitch as the Rays start their series with the Orioles is still up in the air.”

I was filled with far too much joy, even I knew that. I’ve always despised him, always thought he seemed like an arrogant, asshole prick when I would watch him play. And, it was nice to see a guy like him get punished, even for a day.

Of course, then my thoughts turned to April, who actually lived with this man, slept in the same bed as him some nights. This had to be a side of him she was used to. Hopefully, for her sake, it wasn’t something she liked. Did she enjoy his anger, his passion, his aggression? I suppose some women could and probably would, but she didn’t strike me as that. She didn’t strike me as your prototypical baseball wife either. She seemed much more low-key than I might have guessed Marco Batista’s wife would be. Perhaps he had made her that way.

Thankfully, I still didn’t think anyone other than the few that had been sitting at the lunch table that day knew who her husband was. And I could pretty much guarantee none of them were watching the game tonight. But, I still imagined having a hothead husband would be tiring and troublesome for a woman who seemed to want to start a new life in a new town at her new job.

My phone buzzed.

It’s probably Holly
, I thought.
I bet she’s wondering why I haven’t replied back to her yet.

When I picked up my phone and looked at the screen, the name April flashed in front of me. It was 9:53, hours after I sent my last message to her. My heart began to race again.

I’m sorry. It’s been a long night. I thought I had texted u back but I just saw that I didn’t.

No mention of my crazy husband comment, so that was a plus. I had to decide whether I would text right back, running the risk of once again seeming overeager, or making her wait a little bit.

Why the fuck would you even consider making her wait?
I thought.
You’ve been on pins and needles all night waiting for the damn text.

I replied to Holly first, since I had forgotten to, which gave me a chance to think of how to respond to April.