The Fifth Stage Part 32

"You can't know, Mary. You think it's easy for me because I'm different."

She huffs and rolls her eyes. "Don't go playing that queer card on me. I don't buy it. Love is love, no matter who's involved. And make no mistake, Miss Prissy, I know all too well what it's like to be with someone one day and wake up alone the next. I wasn't much older than you are when my first husband left." She stops and shakes her head, lips pressed into a tight red line, eyes far away. "That's water under the bridge, but the point is..."

I put down my pen and give Mary a hard stare. "Look, I'm sorry if I underestimated your open-mindedness, and I appreciate your concern.

I've gotten a little off track, that's all, but I'm back on now and everything's fine."

"You take the cake, you know that? Once you set your mind to something, you're as stubborn a person as I've ever come across." Mary leans toward me. "That track you're so proud of being on just may be a dead end. Think about that." She doesn't look at me again as she rises and leaves.

Dead end, live end, who cares? It's my track and I'm staying on it.

If you're lucky, you get one great love in your life, and I've had mine.

Anything else would be a lie. Yes, I've stumbled, been tempted to play at a fake relations.h.i.+p, but that's all over. I'll clean up the mess I've made with Rebecca and forget all this ever happened.

209.

I steer into Choppy's parking lot and have trouble finding a s.p.a.ce.

Good, Rebecca will be busy. I park under a budding elm tree near the street and check my makeup in the rearview mirror. As I stroll toward the building, the suns.h.i.+ne is warm on my face, but a gentle breeze reminds me that we could still have some cool nights ahead. My heart sags at the thoughtcool nights spent alone in a big house with a c.o.c.ker spaniel and a horror movie. On the bright side, I'll be saving a bundle on lunch tabs.

Inside the restaurant, I wait to be seated. The balding man in front of me is wearing too much aftershave, and I sneeze four times before he leaves. When the hostess leads me to a booth near the bar, I sit down and bury my head in the menu.

"h.e.l.lo, stranger." Rebecca slides into the seat across from me. That didn't take long.

I put my menu aside. Big mistake. She's smiling, her eyes holding mine, that infernal dimple begging me to kiss it.

My knees go weak, and I struggle to keep my voice level. "Looks like you've got a good crowd today."

"Not too bad for a Wednesday." Rebecca glances around before looking back at me. She leans in. "I've missed you."

I look around the bar as if I'm expecting someone. "Work has been crazy this week. Three of my local sales reps have huge projects on my desk, and one of my installation foremen is out with a broken arm."

"How are things aside from work?"

"About the same. Jitterbug is due for shots next week, and I need to make an appointment with the vet. Jared and Elizabeth are taking a vacation, and the kids are going to stay with me this weekend. I'm not looking forward to that. They can be a real handful. Tonya says to tell you h.e.l.lo. How are things with you?" I'm talking so fast the words are running together, making little sense.

"Nothing special. Work, work, work. You know how it is."

A harried waitress I haven't seen before scoots up to the table and brushes a shock of blonde hair from her eyes. "Hi, welcome to Choppy's. I'm Diane, and I'll be taking care of you today. What can I get for you?"

Rebecca gives her an approving smile and looks at me. "Diet Sprite and a garden salad with ranch dressing?"

"Yes, that'll be fine." I fold the menu and give it to the waitress who scurries to the next table.

I arrange my silverware. "I hear we're supposed to have nice weather this weekend, temperature may hit the seventies on Sat.u.r.day."

210.

"That's what I heard, too."

She's scanning me. I hate it when she does that. It's like she can see right into me.

Rebecca nudges my foot with hers. "I was hoping we could get together again soon."

I look at her again and my determination slips a notch. I roll my shoulders and stretch my neck, but the muscles get tighter. "Uh, yeah, we'll get together sometime soon."

Rebecca peeks at her watch. "Listen, I've got some paperwork upstairs that I need to take care of. Want to go up with me for a minute?

We can take your lunch with us."

After a long pause, I say, "Okay, but only for a minute. I've got to get back to the office."

I follow Rebecca to the bar where she tells the waitress we'll pick up my order in the kitchen.

This isn't going as planned. I was supposed to let her know I cared about her as a friend, but instead, I'm thinking about attacking her as soon as her apartment door closes. I imagine her scent filling me, her lean body against me, her lips on mine.

No, this isn't going well at all.

CHAPTER 39.

I didn't hear the bathroom door slam behind me, or the lock click into place; didn't feel my knees. .h.i.t the tile floor, or the contents of my stomach splash into the toilet. But I heard the banging on the door and her ambiguous words pounding in my head.

I sat on the floor, my back against the wall. The tile was cool under my hands. Emotions bounced around my head. I told myself it wasn't true, tried to convince my intellect that it was all a bad dream. Despite my suspicions, despite all the signs, I'd held out a shred of hope. Lora would never betray me, never let someone else's hands touch her, someone else's lips kiss her. I'd wanted to be wrong, prayed to be wrong, but it was true. Lora had admitted seeing someone else.

Horrid visions flashed in my mind. An unknown shadow groped her naked body, and Lora writhed with pleasure beneath it. The visions became clearer until my senses were overwhelmed by the imagined sound of her breathing, the aroma of her s.e.x, the vision of her nails tracing tiny lines down someone else's back.

Vomit surged again, and I scrambled back to my knees and retched into the toilet. Acid burned my throat. I couldn't breathe. I sat there five, maybe ten minutes, staring at the bathtub, my worst fear smothering me.

Lora was still banging on the door. "Claire, what the h.e.l.l are you doing? Are you all right? Let me in."

I didn't answer, didn't move. My head roared with questions that had no real answers. Why did she stop loving me? What did I do so wrong? How had I mistreated her? Frantic, I searched my memory for some evil deed, something rotten enough to force her into someone else's arms.

Everything around me looked fuzzygleaming bra.s.s faucets, monogrammed hand towels, beveled mirror. Was this what my life had come down to, an unfocused photograph of the perfect suburban bathroom? Is that what I'd worked so hard for, spent so many nights on the road for, to end up cowering on the floor, broken and alone?

211.

212.

My pain surged into a hurricane of anger, rage braced to lash out at anything. I jumped to my feet, lungs heaving. In the mirror, I caught my reflection, but it wasn't me. It was an animal, wounded, furious, and poised to attack. It was that animal who raised her fist and slammed it against the mirror. When the mirror shattered, a shard of gla.s.s struck my fist, slicing a long, jagged cut between my knuckles and along the back of my hand. I stood there, looking at my torn flesh, watching red ooze spill out.

"Claire, G.o.dd.a.m.n it, if you don't unlock this door, I swear I'm going to break it down!"

I struggled to speak, barely able to voice my rage, "Break it down, you b.i.t.c.h. You and your wh.o.r.e, break it right on down. You can take this whole G.o.dd.a.m.ned house and shove it up your a.s.ses, brick by f.u.c.king brick."

Then a strange sense of nothingness came over me. Something in my brain dulled my awareness, shut down the delirium, and left me standing there, watching my blood drain down the sink.

A distant pounding a.s.saulted my ears, metal against metal. Once, twice, and again. Then a rustling noise, creaking, splintering wood.

The door flew open and Lora rushed in. Her eyes fell on my b.l.o.o.d.y hand. "Oh, my G.o.d. What did you do?"

She tossed the claw hammer aside and reached for me, but I recoiled, slinging crimson spatters onto the floor. "Don't touch me.

Don't you dare touch me."

"Look at me." She grabbed my shoulders and turned me toward her. I couldn't meet her eyes. She s.n.a.t.c.hed a towel from the bar beside the sink and wrapped it around my hand. "Jesus. I was afraid of something like this."

She pressed hard on the cut for several seconds, then unwound the towel and inspected the damage. As she turned on the faucet, I noticed her hands. G.o.d, I loved her handsstrong but gentle. Where was I going to find hands like hers?

"You're going to need st.i.tches." Lora didn't look at me as she wet the towel and rewrapped it around my hand.

I just stared at her. My lover, a stranger.

Lora pressed the towel tight. Her touch made the hair on my arms stand up. She took my chin and made me look into her eyes. "Claire, listen to me. Are you listening?"

I nodded.

"You're a survivor. You're going to get through this." Tears streamed down her cheeks.

213.

I shook my head. "No."

"Yes." Her voice trembled. She swallowed, blinked hard, and swallowed again. "I'm going to take you to the hospital and get you st.i.tched up. We'll talk about it when we get home."

"No."

"We have to talk about it. There's no going back now." She took my free hand; her skin was like ice. "Don't worry, I've worked out all the details. I've tried to make this as easy as possible on you."

"Easy? You think this is easy?" I had no more tears. My face felt like it would burst.

"You're right, it won't be easy." She wrapped her arms around me.

I leaned into her and held her tight.

"Baby, please don't leave me. Whatever I've done, I'll make it right, I promise. I can't live without you." My knees buckled and we sat on the floor together. Lora held me, rocking, whispering, and telling me it would be all right.

I wanted to believe her.

CHAPTER 40.

I follow Rebecca through Choppy's kitchen. A cook wearing a hairnet and stained ap.r.o.n is quartering tomatoes with a serrated knife.

She glances at us, then returns to her work.

Rebecca picks up my salad and drink from the prep line and covers the plate with plastic wrap. She backs out the security door into the brisk outside air. As she climbs the stairs ahead of me, her hips sway close to my face. An itch shoots through my privates. The need to be with her is overwhelming, suffocating.

When we reach the top of the stairs, she turns to me. "Don't look at the mess. I was running late this morning and didn't have time to make the bed." She hands me the salad and drink, fishes her keys from her pocket, and unlocks the door.

I follow her in and look around, expecting the place to be trashed, but aside from the crumpled bedclothes, the apartment looks fine.

There's a blue coffee cup in the sink and a pair of sweat socks in front of the sofa. Wonder what she'd say about my house if she saw it after one of my weekend pity parties.

Rebecca drops her keys on the kitchen counter and heads for the filing cabinet that I never fixed for her.

"I'll take another look at the filing cabinet if you want me to." I put my salad and drink on the counter and glance nervously out the window.

The clear sky reminds me of last Sat.u.r.day, when we went horseback riding. It's a natural progression when my thoughts meander to Sat.u.r.day night and I remember the feel of her arm draped around my waist as she slept. She looked so serene, a lingering afterglow flus.h.i.+ng her cheeks, an air of satisfaction surrounding her.

I haven't changed the sheets since our rendezvous. I realize that every night since, I've snuggled up to her pillow. I shudder despite the apartment's stuffiness.

Rebecca digs through some files, her back to me. "Don't worry about this hunk of junk. I'm going to replace it. Got any suggestions?"

214.

215.

"I might be able to set you up with a new unit." I take a step toward her. The fixation is supposed to be under control. For the past few days, I've done everything to tamp out my desire, but now that we're alone, it's back with a vengeance. It drives me toward her and weakens my conviction to end this before it's too late.

When I'm within two feet of her, she turns and smiles, jabbing another spear into my armor. "I'll trust you," she says as she whizzes past. I follow her back to the kitchen. She opens the manila folder and spreads its contents on the table. "I know I've got a copy of that bill somewhere."

Somehow I expected to be fighting her off, explaining how I can't carry our relations.h.i.+p farther, how she's a great person and anyone would be lucky to have her. Instead, I'm half-chasing her around the studio with no idea what might happen if I catch her.

I stuff my fists into my jacket pockets and s.h.i.+ft my weight from one foot to the other. My shoes feel too tight. "Rebecca, I think we need to talk."

She freezes but doesn't look up. "About what?"

"The other night, when we... when..."

She finally looks at me from the corner of her eye. "When we made love?"

"We didn't make love. We f.u.c.ked." Okay, that was a low blow, but I let it stand.

Hurt skips across her face, but she doesn't flinch. I can barely hear her voice when she says, "Call it what you want to, Claire, but I'm a big girl and I know the difference. I think you do, too."