Moments in Time

Chapter 7-1

I haven’t heard anything from Robbie since he ducked out of The West with Cindy Friday night, but wherever they ended up and whatever they did isn’t my business. Still, I’m curious, and I’ve toyed with the idea of ringing him up to get the dirt on what went down. Even though this new me has the thoughts of an older man who respects people’s privacy, the virile young mind inside me has a mind of its own. Chalk it up to the hound of male youth. But some things never change when it comes to s*x. Speaking of which, I woke up this morning to one of Monica’s romps. It seems she’s a morning person when it comes to s*x, not that I’m complaining. It’s a wonderful way to start my day, and this morning there was the enhancement of Tiff’s face mixed in with Monica’s when I closed my eyes. A virtual three-way: what they call an FMF? The memory of it is still with me eight hours later as I get changed to take my wife out to dinner

meThis mixed-up collision of loss, love, l**t, fear, sadness, and grief for my old and new lives has me going in circles. I want to be in some sort of control again even if my old life was crap. Then there’s this new reality, a chance to do things differently, to not make the same mistakes again. If only Monica were Tiffany: if only Tommy were Ted, if only Crystal were here. I’ve been trying to figure out why the universe decided I should land here instead of back in the beginning with Tiff. The sad thing is: Monica deserves to be loved and cherished, and right now the only thing I’m giving her is lip service.

I button my shirt and tuck it into my pants. We’re dropping Tommy off at his aunt and uncle’s house at 5:30, then heading to a restaurant called, The Top of the Hill. I’ve kept Monica’s birthday dinner location a secret from her. The only thing she knows is that we’re childless tonight, and to get dressed up because we’re going out on the town. I glance over at the bedroom door to make sure I’m alone and slip the velvet case containing a blue teardrop sapphire pendant in my jacket pocket. Sapphire is her birthstone and pressed for time, I went with the reliable old standby. I hope she’ll like it.

A moment later, the bathroom door opens down the hall and she’s walking in n***d with her hair bound in a towel. My younger alter ego brain kicks in, ogling her long supple legs, the curve of her a*s. The arch of her back and the roundness of her ample breasts are raising the flag down south. When she shuts the door, comes next to me, and showers me with a come-on smile, it wants me to take her right here, right now.

itI wave my finger at her. “Later,” I say. “Our son’s right down the hall, and we have someplace to be.”

“Never stopped you before,” she says, then bites her lower lip and gives me a saucy sideways look as she drags her fingers across my crotch. “Okay, later,” she says, drifting over to the dresser. She juts her a*s out to make a point, and adds, “Just don’t forget.”

Don’t worry. I doubt there’s any chance of that.

Don’t worry. I doubt there’s any chance of that.* * *

I’m waiting for Monica downstairs on the couch next to Tommy downstairs while she puts the finishing touches on herself for tonight. My son and I are watching the Giants getting trounced by the Cowboys, and he’s peppering me with a million questions. “What’s ‘offsides,’ Padre? What’s ‘clipping?’ Why do they call it a two-minute warning, Padre?” I’m halfway through telling him what an illegal block is when Monica comes down the stairs. When I look up, my breath runs away. It’s the first time I’ve seen her dressed to the nines, as they used to say—or do they say it now? I can’t remember, and it doesn’t matter.

The dress she’s poured into is a one-piece sleeveless ruby-red number with a plunging V-neckline. Her heels are red and spiked, bringing her eye-level with me, and a band of twisted gold is around her neck. Her thick auburn hair is in soft wavy curls, one side pulled back with a red comb and the other side left to twist and fall over her shoulder. A pair of gold earrings finishes the ensemble.

“You look really pretty, Madre,” Tommy says, breaking the spell holding me in place. He hops off the couch and scampers over to his mother.

Monica smiles as our son wraps his arm around her leg. “Thank you, honey,” she says, cradling his head against her side.

“Wow,” is all I can manage to say.

“It’s your favorite dress, Baby,” she says. “So I thought why not?”

Of course it is. “You’re lucky we’re not alone.”

Of course it is. “I gave you your chance upstairs, remember?” she says, then looks down at her son. “Can you turn the TV off honey, so we can go?”

“Okay!”

Five minutes later we load Tommy in the car and we’re off to Monica’s brother’s house. To say I’m a little nervous about meeting her high-powered lawyer brother would be an understatement. In the back seat, Tommy’s prattling along, talking to his mother, who’s sitting next to me. I’m not paying attention to their running conversation as I turn off the interstate and head toward Fayetteville.

The bustling road leading to the village is much different than I remember it in my old life. It’s two lanes each way instead of the combined seven lanes in my old life, many of the buildings haven’t been built yet, and the ones that stand here now, I’ve forgotten about. I come to the five-way intersection at Linden Corners and make a sharp right, heading east toward a wide-open sloping field with a wooded land on top. This road, according to the map I looked at this morning, ends in a cul-de-sac somewhere up the hill. A mile down the road is a small gatehouse. I slow down as a guard comes out of it. I’ve never had cause to come down this road before in my old life so when I see it, I’m thinking, gated community: mega-dollars.

I watch a stout man, who’s well into his sixties wave me forward. I roll down the window and drive up. When I come beside him, he bends down to get a look inside. His stern expression melts into a smile when he sees me. “Oh, Alan, Monica, how ya been?”

“Doing pretty good,” I answer.

Monica leans over. “Hi Jerry.”

“Haven’t seen you guys in a while,” he answers.

“Been busy at the hospital,” Monica says. “How’s Betsy?”

“She’s doing good,” he says. He waves to Tommy in the back seat and gives him a wink. To Monica, he says, “You want me to ring your brother up?”

Monica says, “He knows we’re coming.”

“Okay, you have a good day now,” he replies and ducks back into the gatehouse. A second later, the bar across the road lifts up and I’m driving along, looking for numbers on the mailboxes. From the corner of my eye, I see Monica watching me with a curious expression.

“Something the matter?” she says.

I pause. “I always have trouble with their driveway sneaking up on me.” (Yeah, it’s bullshit, but what would you do?)

“The one up there,” she says, pointing ahead toward a large cedar-clad contemporary with a montage of sloping shed roofs. It’s a monster estate, set back off the road and tucked into the wooded land that rushes down to meet the rolling fields. Then again, why shouldn’t I have expected it? Her brother is a corporate lawyer and a partner in the Hiscock law firm in town.

I pull into a long gravel drive that bends around a stand of locust trees and park in front of a four-car garage. I get out and wait for Monica and Tommy to join me, then we head for the front door. Monica gives a quick knock, then opens it and calls out to her brother. A moment later, Lenny comes down the open-riser stairs with a dark chocolate Doberman on his heels. He’s a tall guy, dark-haired, clean-shaven, and groomed to the hilt. Sharp hazel eyes blending in with his olive green sweater give us the friendly once-over. After a quick hug with his sister, he puts his hand out to me.

“Hey Alan,” he says with a broad smile as the dog gives me a good sniff. When I go to pet him, he lets out a guttural rumbling. It appears someone senses I’m not who I appear to be.

It appears someone senses I’m not who I appear to be.“Zeus, go,” Lenny commands, pointing down the hall. “Sorry about that. He hasn’t seen you in a while, I guess,” he says and gives Tommy a scruff on the head. “Nancy’s out back in the flowerbeds. Come on in.”

As he leads us down the hall past a pair of French doors opening into an office library, I’m doing mental calculations of the value of this shack. It’s well over six figures. When we come to the enormous great room with a towering vaulted ceiling at the end of the hall, I bump the figure up a couple notches. The room is a freaking museum: a bronze Remington is in one corner, a large Ansel Adams photo of El Capitan hanging over an enormous fireplace, Tiffany lamps on the tables. Lenny slips outside to fetch his wife. As Monica and Tommy go over to a broad bank of sliding glass doors with stacked trapezoid windows above, I try not to gawk. I could put half of our raised ranch in this room.

When Tommy jumps and cries out, “Really?” I come to myself to see Monica pointing to something outside.

“If you ask nicely, I think they’ll let you,” she says.

I drift over the gleaming hardwood floor and join them. In the far corner of the backyard is a fenced-in paddock with a pale horse nibbling hay. Of course they have one! At this point I wouldn’t be surprised to see a jet peeking out of a hangar somewhere.

A moment later, Lenny returns with his wife, Nancy. She’s a short blonde woman with blue eyes and a few extra pounds, but she’s well put together in a stylish lavender jumpsuit with a pair of gardening gloves tucked into a wide green and purple beaded belt. When Tommy runs over to her, she drops to her knees and gives him a hug.

“How’s my big boy,” she says to him as Lenny looks on beside her.

Tommy pulls back. “Can I ride Sugar?”

“Maybe, we’ll see,” she says, getting up. She goes over to Monica and they exchange a practiced hug complete with a brushing kiss to each cheek, then she turns back to Tommy. “He’s shooting right up.”

Monica smiles. “Yes, he is. Thanks for watching him tonight.”

“Oh, it’s no problem. Love having him,” Nancy says. “I don’t see him as much as I’d like to these days.”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” Monica says. “Life’s been such a rat race lately.”