Authors: Gena Showalter
“No, not trying. You
are
strong.”
If she kept it up, I was going to bawl like a baby. I clasped her hand in mine and gave a gentle squeeze.
“Jonathan expects you at the house tonight. Seven-thirty. He wants to counsel you on your relationship choices. Can you come?”
How ironic. Relationship counseling from a cheater. I didn’t think I was ready to see the rotten creep without scratching the skin from his bones, but I’d do it. I’d use the opportunity to sneak around the house like a goddamn Scooby-Doo disciple and find clues.
“I’ll be there,” I said with a firm nod.
“I love you, sweetie.” She kissed my cheek, stood and glided away.
I
FORCED
M
EL AND
K
ERA TO GO
with me to Jonathan’s “relationship therapy” session that night. After he was finished dispensing his advice, they were going to distract him while I searched the house. Thankfully, my fury had lessened and I felt in control enough not to attack the cheating bastard with a whip and blowtorch. I loved the man, but I still planned to castrate him.
Maybe I wouldn’t have been so upset if not for the picture of Royce and Big-Boobed Gwen. Nah. I’d still be pissed. Cheating was cheating.
Mom greeted us at the door. She brightened when she spotted her nieces. “Mel, Kera! I’m so glad you came. It’s been too long since I last saw you. How’re you doing, girls?”
“Fine, Aunt Gloria. Just fine,” they answered simultaneously, and hugged her.
“Come in, come in,” my mom said. I followed behind Mel and Kera, but when I tried to move past my mom, she grabbed my arm and tugged me aside. “You look ready for war.” She spoke behind her hand and didn’t meet my eyes. “What are you planning?”
“It’s better if you don’t know.” I kissed her cheek, savoring the fragrance of lilies, and sailed past her. “Where’s Dr. Johnnie?”
“You know he hates when you call him that.” Mom waved toward the back of the house. “He’s waiting for you in the den.”
We followed the trail of floral-scented candles. The den was spacious, well-lit and fairly bursting with elegant bird figurines of every color and breed. Jonathan collected them. If I were analyzing him, I’d say he collected them because he’s a cheating bastard who thinks it’s okay to trample over a woman’s self-esteem and ruin her ability to trust for the rest of her life.
That, and perhaps he wishes he could fly.
My stepdad was sitting on a big, cushy recliner, smoking a pipe and reading a book. He had a thick head of silver hair and a neat, trimmed beard.
Over the years, this man had counseled me on everything from eating disorders to shopping addictions. My entire childhood had been spent digging into my inner core, learning why I behaved as I did.
Maybe that was why I was so screwed up.
A pretty woman in her mid-twenties occupied the room’s only other recliner. She, too, was reading a book and didn’t notice the new arrivals. I gave her a once-over and frowned. Red curls framed her round, pleasant face. Her brown eyes tilted upward and her lips were small and shaped like Betty Boop’s. She wore a fitted pink T-shirt and red-striped pants.
Could
this
be Jonathan’s new love interest? Was he screwing around with a woman less than half his age? My frown became a hot scowl. How dare he bring her into my mom’s house? How dare he! He was probably trying to pass the redheaded Boop impersonator off as a “friend.” I’d met a parade of Richard’s friends, aka whores, tramps and sluts.
“Hello, Jonathan,” I said, both words measured carefully. Cheating bastard. Rot in hell!
He glanced up from his book and smiled, completely unaware of the fact that I was planning his death in my head.
“Naomi. So good of you to come.” He placed his pipe in the ashtray, smoke wafting around him like a misty cloud. “You’ll be happy to know I’ve been studying primitive mating rituals, hoping to help you with your problem.”
Mel snorted, and I had to pinch her arm to keep her from saying anything.
“What problem?” I asked.
He didn’t answer. “I see you’ve brought the twins,” he said, brightening. “Excellent. Excellent. I’m sure this will be beneficial for everyone.”
“Who’s your friend?” I motioned to the redhead with a tilt of my chin. I didn’t mean to sound so rude, but my blood pressure had escalated several more points.
The woman in question stood and held out her hand to shake. “Hi, I’m Jennifer. Jonathan and Gloria’s neighbor.”
Neighbor…was that the word for “whoring tramp” nowadays? “So nice to meet you,” I ground out. I didn’t take her hand.
She blinked over at me, obviously startled by my seemingly unwarranted ambivalence. “Nice to meet you, as well.”
“I’m Kera.” Kera shot me a what’s-wrong-with-you frown before reaching out and clasping Jennifer’s
hand in a friendly shake. “And this is my sister, Melody. Everyone calls her Mel.”
“Jennifer is joining us for the session,” Jonathan said. “I thought it would do her some good, too.”
I just bet you did,
I thought darkly.
Mel, Kera and I settled on the couch. My mom eased onto the armrest beside Jonathan. Jennifer began to reclaim her chair, but Jonathan said, “No, no, Jennifer. You sit beside Naomi.”
I tensed, not wanting the tramp anywhere near me.
“I’m fine here,” she said, casting a wary glance in my direction.
“To the couch.” Jonathan pointed.
I scooted over to make room and Jennifer obligingly sat down. She smelled good, like roses and baby’s breath. I made a mental note to hate that scent for the rest of my life, as well as to check Jonathan’s laundry for any hint of roses.
“I can feel everyone’s eagerness.” Jonathan rubbed his hands together in a show of delight. He lived for this shit. “That’s the first step toward recovery, you know.”
What were we trying to recover from? Being related to cheating male whores?
Get a hold of the bitterness, Naomi. There’ll be time enough for that later.
I pasted a fake smile on my face. In the past I’d always put up with these therapy sessions because they made Jonathan happy. He’d done his best to make me feel loved, so I’d done the same for him. Now, today, I only wanted it over.
Using a remote control, Jonathan turned on the
stereo. Soft new-age music floated and hummed from the speakers.
Kera rolled her eyes at me and I shrugged.
“Now then, girls,” he said. “I want you to relax.”
Like that was possible. My bones and muscles felt tight and strung out, brittle, ready to break.
“Close your eyes.” He was using his I-am-in-a-happy-place voice. “That’s right. Relax. Find your meadow of happiness. Melody, close your eyes please. Good girl. Naomi, you, too.”
Though we’d all endured many therapy sessions over the years, I guess none of us had realized that failure to do as Jonathan wanted only prolonged the experience.
“Really, Gloria,” Jonathan suddenly sighed. “You’re casting shadows over my notes.”
“Oh, goodness. I’m sorry.” My mom moved to stand in the corner.
I watched the whole thing through slitted eyelids and came close to launching myself across the room and bitch-slapping the man. No one told my mom to get out of their way! This was not a normal interaction between my mom and Jonathan. He was acting strangely, just like my mom had said, and I didn’t like it.
One point in Royce’s favor was he’d never spoken to me so dismissively, as if I were a pesky fly to be swatted away. Still, the man liked leggy brunettes, and that made him just as bad as Johnnie.
“Better,” Jonathan said. “Now, where were we? Close your eyes…check. Meadow of happiness…yes,
there.” Once again his voice went soft. He sounded like an idiot when he did that. “Imagine yourself in a meadow. A lush, green meadow swaying with wild-flowers and lit by sunshine.”
Kera squeezed my knee.
Mel smothered a chuckle.
Jennifer had yet to move. In fact, I barely heard her breathing.
“While you’re in this safe, happy place, I want you to consider my next words. Picture them, even. Relationships are like maps. When you first meet someone new, you set a course for yourself.”
Yada, yada, yada.
He continued. “Sometimes, the wind will blow you off course. But that doesn’t mean your map is useless. That just means you need to readjust your route. Do you girls understand what I’m trying to tell you?”
“I do,” my mom said, her voice hard.
“Not you, Gloria.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from snapping the man’s head off.
“Girls, do you understand?”
I nodded stiffly and nudged Kera and Mel. They, too, nodded.
“Good. Now it’s time to picture the man—not the woman—you plan to marry.”
How subtle.
“Remember, no choice is wrong.” He cleared his throat. “Who do you see, Kera?”
She glanced to me, her expression saying,
Do I really have to answer?
Again I nodded.
“I see someone I love dearly,” she said. “But I can’t make out a face clearly.”
“That’s okay. At least you know your map is going to lead you to love. And you, Melody? Who do you see?”
“Actually, I see four men.”
“Four?” he gasped out.
“One for every divorce.”
“Perhaps we need to readjust your map.” He uttered a nervous chuckle. “I’ll work with you privately on that.” Now he turned his attention to me. “And who do you see, Naomi?”
At that point, I decided I’d had enough. I wasn’t in the mood to convince my stepfather that I liked men.
“Well, Naomi?” he persisted.
“I see Jennifer,” I told him. “I’ve been hot for her since I walked into this room.” With that, I leaned over and planted the woman a big one.
Surprisingly, she responded.
“H
OW WAS
I
SUPPOSED TO KNOW
Jennifer’s gay?” I whispered fiercely.
Kera, Mel and I were in the kitchen, supposedly preparing everyone a drink. The therapy session was over and it was now social hour.
“Did you see the look on Dr. Johnnie’s face?” Mel asked, laughing. “That was priceless.”
“Yeah, come here and kiss
me,
lover girl.” Kera puckered up.
I covered my face with my hands. Guilt hovered
over my shoulder for the way I’d glared and snarled at Jennifer, thinking she was Jonathan’s secret lover. “What else was I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know, but I’m ready to sign up for the next therapy session he wants to give us,” Mel said. “I’ve never laughed so hard. Maybe next time he’ll tell me a man’s penis is like a flute. Blow it hard enough and you’ll make music.”
A choked laugh bubbled past my throat. “Just take him a drink and keep everyone busy. I’ve got some snooping to do.”
F
IRST
, I
SEARCHED MY MOM
and Jonathan’s bedroom. Needless to say, the whole thing creeped me out. I didn’t need to know that they slept on red silk sheets and had mirrors on their ceiling. I didn’t need to know about the sex toys in the drawer next to their bed. Most of all, I did
not
need to see the Strokia Sex book—whatever the hell that was—under Jonathan’s pillow.
Cringing, I rifled through the dirty clothes hamper and the scent of sweet perfume wafted to my nostrils. Floral and musky, yes, but not lilies. Mom was right; that was not a scent she’d ever wear. I checked Jonathan’s shirts for lipstick stains and stray hairs. Nothing. Not a smudge, not a strand. The man was immaculate.
Of course, a cheater needed to be immaculate to properly hide his clandestine activities.
With Richard the Bastard, I’d had to count condoms. He hadn’t thought to buy a new box but
had used the one from our home. The supply would get low—and they hadn’t been used with me. My mom was postmenopausal, so that would be no help.
Where should I look next? Mom had said Jonathan sneaked away to make secret phone calls. I needed to get a hold of his phone bill. Every number dialed and received would be recorded there.
My heartbeat drumming in my ears, I padded quietly to the office. It was small, but crammed with books. Mostly psychiatric mumbo jumbo. His desk drawers were locked, I noticed, eyes narrowing. He probably kept kinky pictures of the other woman in there.
I leaned back in the plush, black leather seat and considered my options. I could jimmy the locks open with a letter opener, but then he’d know I’d been here. I could search for the key, perhaps not find it and waste precious time.
There was no choice, really. I had to risk wasting time by searching for the key.
My gaze circled the room. If I were Jonathan, where would I hide my keys? A place my poor, un-suspecting wife wouldn’t think to look for them, that’s where. Richard had kept his on his person or in his briefcase 24-7. I doubted Jonathan would be that paranoid. He was a mind doctor, therefore he would assume he could outsmart anyone who entered his domain.
The picture of him fishing on Lavon Lake…no. A hollowed-out book…no. Too cliché. My gaze continued to search, considering and discarding items as I came to them. Then I noticed a small, seemingly
innocent blue-and-yellow parakeet. I lifted the item in question and turned it in every direction, wondering why my I’m-so-sophisticated stepdad owned an ugly, plastic figurine.
The answer hit me, and I smiled slowly.
“Of course you’d hide the key in plain sight,” I whispered, pressing the bird’s beak. A key instantly snapped out. My hands shaking with excitement and nervousness, I quickly unlocked and searched the desk drawers.
My teeth bared when I spotted photos of a plain, conservatively dressed woman in multiple stages of movement. In some, she was holding a cute, dark-headed toddler. My jawbone almost snapped with the force I used to bite down. Did Jonathan have a love child? Of course he did. Why else would he hide the picture? That sugar daddy dickwad!
I found his cell-phone bill, too. There were too many numbers to write down, so I folded the papers and stuffed them in my pocket. Hopefully, he’d just think he lost them.
Smoldering with anger, yet giddy with my triumph, I locked the desk and replaced the key, then strolled into the den. I breathed a sigh of relief when no one took notice of my arrival. Mel and Jonathan were facing off, arguing over the prevalence of divorce. Kera, Jennifer and my mom were seated demurely on the couch, discussing the merits of good skin cleanser.