• • •
FOR
BOOKCLUBS,
READING
GROUPS &
LIBRARIES
© 2008 - 2009
Paul G. Bens, Jr.
1997
MELANIE, 38
Melanie managed to maneuver the tee shirt over her head without dropping the phone. That snotty Veronique in reception had kept her on hold for ten minutes already without checking back in, and, for a moment, she thought about hanging up. Gareth was nothing if not dependable. He'd remember to check the house.
Not that it really mattered. If all worked out the way she suspected, she'd never be coming back here. He was going to get the house when all was said and done, and she didn't want him to have any surprises waiting for him when he moved back in. Originally, she'd thought about just packing up and moving out without a word, like he had done when he'd finally had enough, but Kelland reminded her that deep down she still loved him and didn't want to cause him any more pain.
Kelland had been right about so many things. Over the months he'd become her confidant and advisor, her shoulder to cry on, and her partner in crime. His gentle prodding forced her to face the facts that made up her life. The structure he'd brought allowed her the strength to regain a purpose. The support had helped her to find all the pieces of the puzzle that made up her son. They were destined to meet. She knew that now, and the thought of him vanquished her impatience with the muzak playing over the phone. She smiled at the irony when Squeeze's "Tempted" started playing, but she moved her hips sensually along with the song.
As if on cue, Kelland appeared in the bedroom doorway. "Is this all you're taking?" He pointed at the small overnight case and an even smaller toiletry bag sitting on the bed.
She stopped gyrating, grinned a little at how she must have looked to him, how overtly sexual she must have been. She wondered if he noticed those types of things, if he cared. "Why? Do you think I'll need more?"
"That's up to you," he said. The open collar of his shirt raised a little as he shrugged and exposed a tuft of hair she'd never noticed before. On the nights when she lay in bed, thinking of the time they'd spent together and of all the deeply personal conversations they'd shared, she touched herself, dreamt of what it would be like to be with him, but never once had she pictured him with chest hair.
"I've been on hold forever," she said, trying to banish the impure thoughts from her mind. "Can you take the big bag down to the car?"
"Sure." He grabbed the bag and slung it over his shoulder. Even through the blackness of his shirt she could notice the muscles of his arm. "But we'd better get on the road."
"I'll be right--"
Gareth's voice interrupted her. "I'm sorry, Melanie. I couldn't get off the other line."
"It's okay, Gareth." She waved Kelland on to the car. "I just wanted to remind you to check in on the house, water the plants for me. You know."
"Right. It's today, right?"
"Actually, we're about an hour behind schedule."
"We?" Gareth questioned.
"Just a friend."
"Where are you going, by the way?"
Melanie breathed in deeply. She wanted to tell him the truth, the plan, but the less he knew the better. "No particular destination. Just wherever the road takes us." She wondered if the last sentence sounded too cliché, whether it would tip him off something big and exciting was in the works.
"And you're back when?"
"About three and a half weeks, I think. I'll call you if it is going to be any longer."
Even though he said nothing, she practically heard Gareth nodding, wondering what she wasn't telling him. She rather liked that feeling, leaving him hanging, thinking she'd met someone--which she had--and was off on some grand romantic adventure. He'd always said she'd be the first to move on, and it had been so long since anything even resembling love had passed between them, the jealous silence was as warm as a deep kiss.
"Hey, Melanie," Gareth finally said. "I'm glad you're getting away." It was honest.
"Thanks."
"Okay, then. I'll see you when you get back, right?"
"Right. Well, I've got to go." She waited for him to say something more, something appropriate for what likely would be the last time they ever spoke. Of course he couldn't know that was the case and had no grand statement to offer. So before hanging up she added, "I love you, Gareth."
She wasn't sad or afraid as she looked around her bedroom for the last time. The memories left no trail of wistfulness as they washed over her. They were facts, parts of her past. She cherished picking out the dresser with Gareth and his mother before they even got married, remembered how they'd scrimped and saved and cut coupons for years so they could afford the sleigh bed in which they made so much love and one fine son, and laughed when she recalled how Gareth had hated the tartan bedspread she'd picked up in a little shop near San Francisco International. But she'd let go of all that. She had no remorse in leaving them behind. She did regret that she and Kelland would not sleep together in that bed, not even one night.
She opened the toiletry bag and rummaged through the contents. The gun was unloaded, safety on. She wondered if she and Kelland would become lovers before she used it.