Authors: Barbara Delinsky
"Because it's private. Intimate. Embarrassing." He snorted. "Which brings us back to the nitty gritty. Sex isn't great between us. It never really was. Patching things up wouldn't do a thing to change that. It's either there or it isn't. In our case it isn't. We might have tried to fool ourselves for a while, but the chemistry just isn't right."
"But the marriage has worked. We share values when it comes to basic life-style. We don't argue about money or the house or the cars. Or the kids. We have a lot going for ourselves."
"A month ago I would have agreed. That was before the sex thing got to be too much for you."
"One time, J.D."
"The first. There'll be others. You'll see. It's like taking drugs. You resist and resist because you're totally clean, then for whatever reasons you try it once. Suddenly you're not totally clean, so it doesn't make much difference if you try it a second time, then a third and a fourth. My good friend Sam learned that from his clients and passed it on during one of our evening talks." He sat back. "You didn't know about those, did you? The nights when we stayed in the office shooting the breeze from five to seven, then raced home so our wives wouldn't be upset." J.D. had spent some of those early evenings with women, but he wasn't telling Teke. He wasn't giving her dirt to use against him. "Well, Sam and I don't have those talks anymore. In fact, if John Stewart has his way, Sam won't be in the office at all."
Teke caught her breath. "Oh, J.D." that's not fair. He's done well for the firm."
J.D. raised a remedial finger. "Done well for him. His name is the one in the lights, not the firm's."
"But he brings in huge fees."
"That was the only thing that swayed John Stewart from bringing Sam's place in the partnership to an immediate vote. But he says it's only a delay. He wants Sam out. He wants you out, too. He thinks I should get a divorce."
Teke caught another, sharper breath.
"Didn't it occur to you that that might happen?" J.D. asked in disbelief. She was either more naive
than he had thought or just plain dumb. "Didn't it occur to you that if you cheated on me, I might say, What the hell, it's not worth a damn, why should I make the effort to keep it together? Hasn't the thought of divorce entered your mind at least once in the last few weeks?"
"It has," she said, pushing her hair off her face, "but it isn't what I want. Marriage is something to fight for."
J.D. felt a stab of impatience. "Is it worth the fight? Face it, Teke, we're night and day, you and I. Know what's made our marriage work? Annie and Sam! They make us look attractive to each other. If it weren't for them, and for the kids, we'd probably have been disillusioned long before now. So now we won't have Annie and Sam, because I can't trust you around him, and Annie can't trust him around you, and the kids will be gone soon, so what's left? Do you think the sex will suddenly improve? Do you think I want to be worrying about how I compare to your other lovers? Sorry, lady, I don't compete that way."
She lowered her chin. Her hair slid forward.
"So I've put down money on a condo in Boston," he said, proud of himself for taking decisive action, particularly when her head flew up in alarm. "It's a big place, so the kids can visit, and it's furnished, so I can move in whenever I want. That's why I have to know your plans. If you'll be staying here with Michael, I'll stay at the house with the girls until he comes home. If you'll be sleeping home, I'll move to Boston now."
She had a hand on her chest. "You put money down. So fast?" He shrugged. "It's a buyer's market."
"Didn't you want to talk about it with me? Didn't you want to think about the effect it would have on the kids?"
"I've thought about the kids. What I'm doing seems far more honest than if I were to stay in the house and pretend we still have feelings for each other."
Teke blinked. "Don't we? We're married. I respect your work. We have a past together and so many memories. We share children."
"But we don't love each other." He would never have said that a month before. He had thought he loved her. But the speed with which his feelings had changed suggested something else. "Maybe we never did."
"There are different kinds of love," she argued, but he knew she was groping. "Not all are heavily passionate."
He couldn't hold back a bitter laugh. "Baby, we barely did lightly passionate." He sobered, thinking about the sham of his bragging and about the other women he had known over the years. "And you weren't the only one who felt the lack, Teke. Many a time I've needed more." That seemed to stem any further argument she might have made. She scooped her dark hair away from her face again--it was the kind of gesture he had thought sexy once, the kind other men probably still thought sexy--and stared at him for a minute. "Is this the end, then?" she asked shakenly. "Will you be filing for divorce?"
"Not immediately. This is a trial separation." Her face lightened. "Then you think there may be hope for us?"
"Not much."
The lightness faded. "So why a trial separation? Why not go right into divorce proceedings?"
Why not? Because J.D. wasn't in any rush. Because there was a sense of power in keeping Teke dangling. She deserved it. Anyone who betrayed him
deserved that much and more. "Maybe," he said, "because I want to keep you tied up until Annie and Sam decide what to do. If you're free, you're apt to try to grab him."
She made a face that said she thought he was crazy, but he didn't care. He was in control. He was calling the shots. He would file for divorce when it suited him--not when it suited John Stewart or Teke or Sam--and not a minute sooner.
Annie was trying to put together a last minute dinner when lana came through the back door and asked, all breathless and upset, "Are they getting divorced?"
Annie looked up from reading the directions for a pasta mix. "What?"
"I think they are. Mom's been sleeping at the center and Dad's been sleeping at home, and that might be just fine because of Michael, except that I went into the den a little while ago and saw a pile of change-of-address postcards on the desk. Dad is sending them to credit card companies and magazines, and he lists a place in Boston that isn't his office. Are they getting a divorce?"
Annie set down the box. Jana looked devastated. "I don't know," she said softly. She wished she knew better what to say to the girl. "It's not my business to ask."
"Well, wouldn't you think it someone's business to tell us? Don't they think we're old enough to see things are wrong? We know what she did. We know Dad is furious. We know that marriages fall apart over things like that."
Annie grabbed the lapel of Jana's blazer and gently tugged her along to the phone. She hung on while she used the other hand to punch out the
office number, but she connected with the answering service. "He must have already left. Is he coming home to have dinner with you and Leigh?"
"He said he was. He said we were going out. Again." She tossed her hair back from her face. "I'm getting so sick of eating out. I never thought I'd say that, but it takes time to get seated, time to give your order, time to get your food, and then it's never done the way you want." She gave Annie a look of dismay. "Then Dad gets impatient and complains to the waitress, but when Leigh and I tried making dinner last night, it was a disaster."
"The chicken wasn't good?" Annie asked in surprise. She had given them a foolproof recipe.
"The chicken was great, but we didn't start the rice on time, so he had to wait for that, and by the time it was done, the chicken was overcooked, and the peas were all puckered."
"I wish you could eat here," Annie said, feeling awful that they couldn't, but J.D. never would come. Fortunately she didn't have to say that. Jana knew, and Jana knew why. Jana didn't want to be with Sam any more than J.D. did.
"So, is Dad moving out?" she asked.
"Your mom didn't mention it when I talked with her the other day." Cautiously Jana said, "I didn't know you two were talking."
"We're beginning to," which was probably stretching it, because Annie hadn't talked with Teke since that day in the bathroom. But the stretching had a point. Annie felt that Jana was wrong for turning away each time Teke approached.
"Well, you might be able to forgive her, but I can't. What she did was selfish and cruel."
"She didn't intend to be selfish and cruel." Annie had come to believe that. "She wasn't thinking."
"Then she's an airhead."
"Oh, Jana," Annie said, tugging the lapel of Jana's blazer again,
"sometimes people do things because they're confused. It doesn't mean they're airheads."
"You are forgiving her." It was an accusation now. Annie thought of her close call with Jason Faust. It haunted her, wrapped her in guilt, made her head pound and her stomach turn. It also gave her an insight she hadn't had before. Looking back on those few minutes with Jason, she could begin to understand what Teke had been feeling if she was thinking about Grady Piper and wanting to feel feminine and loved. If what Teke had done was wrong, what Annie had done wasn't much better.
"Who am I to play holier than thou?" she asked Jana. "I've made mistakes in my life. We all have."
"But she hurt you. She cheated on you nearly as much as she did on my dad. How can you forget that?"
"I didn't say I could forget it, but the hurt will lessen in time. I'm not saying things are back to normal, Jana, just that I'm trying to keep an open mind."
"About Sam, too?"
That was harder. Sam was her husband. She expected different things from him than she expected from Teke.
"I'm trying to keep an open mind," she repeated, though her voice was harder.
"And I'm supposed to?"
"If you can."
Zoe burst into the kitchen, crying, "Mom, I can't do this math--Jana!
Thank God you're here! Can you help me? This
does--not--make--sense."
Jana held up a hand to ward Zoe off. Of Annie, quietly, she asked,
"Will you find out what you can?"
"About what?" Zoe asked.
Jana scrunched up her nose. "Nothing." She was watching Annie. Annie nodded. "Give Zoe a hand, and I'll be forever grateful." She sent Jana off with a squeeze and was looking up the number of J.D."s car phone with a thought to catching him there and clueing him in to Jana's upset, when Leigh came through the door, looking lost in Jon's varsity jacket.
"Is Jana here?"
"Upstairs."
"Dad just came home. He wants her there. I would have called, except that the minute he came in he picked up the phone himself, and besides, I had to get out of the house. He's angry. One of his clients is giving him trouble." She went past Annie and slid her arms around Jon, who had appeared in the doorway. Annie guessed he had seen her come through the backyard from his bedroom window.
"Can Leigh eat with us?" he asked Annie.
"Not tonight. J.D. is taking Jana and her out."
"He wants to talk," Leigh told Jon. "Jana thinks he's moving out of the house. That's the first step in getting a divorce."
"Not necessarily," Annie put in, trying to calm Leigh, who had the same tendency as Teke to panic about high-priority items like home and hearth. "Often people take breathers from each other so that they can think things through. Often they need to separate to realize that they don't want to get divorced."
Leigh might have heard, but she was still talking to Jon. "So much for having a big happy wedding. We can forget that if they get divorced."
"That's not true." Annie went to them. "You'll have a big happy wedding regardless."
But Leigh was shaking her head. "Melissa
Weber's sweet sixteen was a nightmare. Her parents fought over the restaurant, the invitations, and the guest list, and then they stared daggers at each other the whole night. Even if Mom and Dad don't get divorced, after all this our wedding will be a mess."
"No, it won't--"
"We'll elope," Jon told Leigh.
"But we want to be there," Annie argued. "Besides, it's too early to be making wedding plans. There's college and graduate school--"
"We're not waiting that long," Jon said.
"And I'm not going to graduate school," Leigh added. "It's a waste of time and money, if I don't want a career, and I don't."
"Look," Annie said, taking a breath, "there's time to talk about all this. Janaf she called, then said to Leigh, "Run back and tell J.D. that she'll be right there."
"I want to talk to Jon first."
"Jana!" More softly, "Talking with Jon won't help, if your dad is in a lousy mood."
"Would you call him, Annie?" Leigh begged, turning Jon toward the stairs. "Tell him I'll be there in a minute?"
"But it wasn't an hour ago that you saw Jon--" Annie called after them, then gave up when the door that led to the garage opened and Sam came in. "I have no control here," she said, throwing a hand in the air. It came down on the phone and punched out the Maxwells' number. The line was busy. "Swell." She shot a warning glance at Sam. "Dinner will be a little late."
He put his briefcase and trench coat on a chair and came to stand by the counter. "Bad day?"
"Busy." She focused on the pasta directions, took butter and milk from the refrigerator, measured the
proper amounts of those ingredients and water into a saucepan, and set it on the stove.
"How are things at school?" he asked.
Gradually add pasta. She eased it in. "Getting busier."
"Midterms?"
"Uh-huh." Bring just to a boil' For all three courses?"
--and simmer for four minutes to desired degree of done ness "Only Brit lit. The others have papers due."
"Won't theTAs help with the grading?"
Jason Faust would help with anything. He might have stormed out of her office in a huff that day-that embarrassing day, that mortifying day--but he had been solicitous ever since. He seemed willing to forget anything had ever happened. She wished she could. She lit the gas under the saucepan. "TheTAs will do the exam. I'll do the papers myself."
"That's a lot of work."
She gestured him aside so that she could reach the cabinet. "It's what my students are paying for," she said. She took out dishes and glasses, then opened the drawer that held the silverware, and all the while she tried not to be aware of Sam, but it was impossible. Forget the fact that he was a large physical presence. There was also the chemical thing. More than once since Annie's talk with Teke in the bathroom, she had wondered whether some sly little muse had given Sam and her their own chemical attraction, plus the chemical attraction that should have gone to Teke and J.D. So Teke and J.D. were without, while she and Sam had twice as much.