If she didn’t have sex soon, she’d be hitting on Laurel’s boyfriend’s next.
****
Heather chose a card for her aunt’s birthday amongst the slim pickings in her hospital’s gift shop. The five-dollar bill in her lab coat crinkled in her palm. She tossed it onto the counter and grabbed a pack of Dentyne peppermint gum and two chocolate covered cherries.
The volunteer behind the counter wrinkled her face. “Bad for your teeth, you should know that.”
“I’m a dietitian, not a dentist.” Heather leaned over and grabbed two more chocolate covered cherries.
The woman scowled. She reminded Heather of her mother-in-law.
“I knew I’d find you here.” Victoria Elling, her co-worker for over five years entered the gift shop. “Morning chocolate fix?”
“Of course. You know I like it rich and sweet. Melting in my mouth, the cherry liquid oozing between my teeth, as I lick the chocolate from my lips.”
The volunteer tossed yet another glare. Too sensual for her? Heather smirked.
“Um, okay,” Victoria squinted. “Having a bad day? Bored? Patient annoying you?”
“All of the above.” Heather unwrapped one of the cherries and tossed it in her mouth. The crunch of the chocolate fracturing between her teeth and the syrupy liquor drenching her insatiable mouth eased her misery. At least for a few minutes.
“Don’t eat them all, I was thinking of trying out a new restaurant for lunch today. I saw it on the way in to work last week. Sara said she went there last night with her friends.”
“Is your daughter ever home anymore?”
“Once she bought herself that car, no. She calls it her vehicle-of-freedom.”
“I need one of those.” Heather tossed the change into her lab coat. “I’m in. Anything to get out of this place and away from the tyrant…” Heather glanced out the window at the incoming nuisance. “Great, another one.”
Victoria peered over her shoulder. “Stop, be nice. Breathe.”
“Good morning, good morning, good morning, the sun is shining, it’s a bright new day!” Catherine Bordeau, Heather’s other co-worker, skipped into the gift shop. All she needed was a basketful of goodies and her nursery rhyme look would be complete. “How is everyone today?”
Heather ignored her and unwrapped another chocolate.
“Oh, you’re not eating chocolate so early in the morning are you? Tsk, tsk.” Catherine bounced over to the balloons and selected a giant sun with the words
Get Well Soon
scrawled across its face. Her floor length skirt and brown turtleneck did not reflect the beautiful spring weather, or her age of thirty-five.
Heather scrunched the wrapper in her palm and winged it at Catherine’s head. It missed and tumbled to the floor. Catherine hopped back to the cashier and removed a twenty from her Fendi wallet.
“Who’s the balloon for?” Victoria asked.
“This poor sweet patient of mine. He’s just so cute.”
“You’re buying a balloon for a patient?” Heather twanged the blue string. “Is he hot?”
“No, no, no. Not that kind of cute. He’s this little ninety-six-year-old man. I could just squeeze his cheeks.”
Heather opened her mouth to speak but Victoria stepped in between them.
“Catherine, I was thinking of trying this new restaurant for lunch today. Would you like to come with Heather and me?”
Heather tossed Victoria an incensed glare.
“Leave the building?” Catherine whispered. “Are we allowed?”
“No. We have to stay in the hospital chained to our nurse’s station all day.”
Catherine gazed out the door. Her eyebrows rose, as did her grin. “Okay, sure. It sounds just peachy!”
****
They crossed into the village of Brightmoor, a small town on the northern part of Long Island. Heather, alone in the back seat of Victoria’s Toyota hybrid, slouched down until only her eyes reached over the window ledge. A young couple kissed passionately beneath a bus stop and the pounding in her head resumed. She repositioned herself until Victoria’s
Advances in Nutrition and Cancer
textbook lying next to her on the seat came into view.
Heather sank deeper into her gloom. Her only joy came from her three daughters. The four of them exhaled silliness into the world and inhaled each other’s love right back.
The expressions on the pedestrians they passed after leaving the park yesterday made her chuckle – Heather honking her horn, the girls waving wildly at complete strangers, their perplexed looks when they tried to figure out who the four of them were, some even waving back, all comical.
Laurel screaming, “How are you?” out the window.
Gia shaking her court jester hat with its bells.
Little Rori giggling until she ran out of breath.
Was it possible to love anyone as much as your own children? Thoughts of running away with them resurfaced. How much longer would the torment continue? She hadn’t shed a tear in all this time though. Stuffed it down, held it in, and stayed strong for her girls. Don’t let them see you cave. Fight.
Let nothing rattle you.
Victoria’s front bumper smashed into a cement parking block. Heather propelled forward, the seatbelt held tight and choked her.
“Oopsie.” Catherine giggled.
“Thanks. Next time you try to hang me, make sure I’ve had my last meal.”
The three of them exited Victoria’s car and strolled toward the rough textured stone façade building painted purple and green. Wooden benches reclined under a purple awning, green lamps dangled above them.
Heather read the storefront sign. “Peaz and Chaoz?”
“I think it means Peas and Carrots,” Catherine said.
“Peas and carrots?” Heather grumbled. “You’re such a dietitian. I thought it meant Peace and Chaos.” She had enough chaos in her life, some peace would be just fine.
“Whatever it means, I hope the food’s delicious. I’m famished.” Victoria grasped the giant wooden handle on the purple and green striped door and they stepped in.
The hostess emerged behind an array of balloons similar to the violet crocus sprouting in Heather’s yard. They followed the waitress towards the back of the restaurant to a leather booth. The sizzling fajitas and grilled shrimp tempted her ravenous desires.
Heather skimmed the menu knowing she would order a salad with grilled chicken, then turned her attention back to her co-workers. “Laurel’s a runner up in the creative writing contest, I’m so excited for her.”
“Oh, another award?” Catherine said sarcastically. “How positively wonderful, where will you find room to hang them all?” Catherine covered her face with the menu.
Heather smashed her glass of water on the wooden table top.
“So…” Victoria leaned forward, “not only is Sara receiving letters of acceptance from colleges already, but Andrew just informed me that when he graduates college next year he wants to rent his own apartment. It’ll just be Ed and me in that big house.”
“Why don’t you think of selling it?” Catherine placed the menu down and grasped her water with both hands like a toddler.
“I could never leave my home, too many memories. Andrew and Sara were born there, not to mention all the work Ed and I put into it over the years. I couldn’t imagine someone else living in it. It would kill me.”
“You’re lucky you married a construction worker,” Heather said. “Lawyers aren’t very handy.”
“Neither are stockbrokers,” Catherine interjected. “And they’re never home.”
Catherine’s husband was never home because he thought he was still a bachelor. Late night dinners in the city, cocktail parties, happy hours.
“Yes, but you’ve both done a tremendous amount of work on your homes. Heather, your landscaping alone is so inviting. I wish I had a green thumb like you.”
“It’s my passion.” She browsed out the window at a passing black Jeep. “An outlet.”
“An outlet,” Catherine snickered. “From what? You have the perfect life.”
“No, I don’t.” Heather took a deep breath and held it. She pressed her fist against her mouth careful to control her voice and tone.
Catherine took another sip of water then placed the glass back exactly on the wet circle left on the tablecloth. “What exactly do you have to complain about, Heather?”
Heather ignored her condescending tone, suddenly wanting something stronger to drink. She waved the waitress over. “Can I have a Blue Moon? Bottle please.”
“You can’t drink alcohol, we’re working.” Catherine’s shocked expression wavered only inches from Heather’s face.
“I don’t follow rules.”
The server arrived with her grilled chicken and strawberry spinach salad but the smell of Victoria’s charbroiled beef and crisp onion rings overflowing on the plate shifted Heather’s taste buds to the variety of flavors and seasonings. No longer interested in her lifeless salad, she gulped half the beer before touching her food.
After lunch, Catherine excused herself and sauntered to the ladies room. Victoria bent over her plate and stared at Heather.
“What?” Heather said.
“What’s going on with you today?”
“The past twenty-four hours were horrible.”
“Lance?”
“This morning, Lance. Another fight. Then yesterday his mother.”
“Again?”
“She’s relentless. I can’t…I just can’t anymore. Then this morning I couldn’t even eat a piece of chocolate without everyone questioning me.”
“Sorry.”
“No, not you, it’s just—”
“Catherine putting you over the edge?”
“No one could be that bubbly all the time. And let’s not mention how she stares at me during our meetings and don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”
Victoria leaned back in the booth, her eyes focused on the ceiling.
“See, you do. If you notice it then how do you think I feel? And what about her little remark about my perfect life?”
“Maybe she thinks you have a wonderful life. Maybe she wants to be you.”
“Uck.” Heather wrenched her tongue out of her mouth. “Give me one of your onion rings.” She reached over and chose the largest of the remaining ones. “They go good with beer. My one beer that’ll get me so wrecked I’ll return to work completely drunk, unable to do my job and they’ll have to call security on me for being unruly.”
“You’re not giving her a chance.”
“She’s been there over six months now, my patience has run out.”
“You must have something in common, you’re close in age and so are your children.”
“All she talks about is new brands of furniture polish and PTA meetings. When she does attempt to fit in, she brings up her sorority parties. Who talks about sorority parties when you’re in your thirties? It’s like they froze her in a time capsule and just defrosted her last year.”
“She’s been out of the work force for years, maybe she’s caught in that mommy syndrome. You used to be like that.”
Heather flicked an ice cube from her water glass into her mouth. “Sorry, I must be such a drag to be around.”
“No, I can understand. But…sometimes I do miss the old Heather.”
Heather pierced the remaining strawberry with her fork. “There’s just no escape. Every day I feel like crying. Home is hell, work is hell.”
“What if you—”
Catherine returned and detected the awkward silence. Heather glided back into the corner of the booth and finished the last of her beer.
“Hey, look at that table over there with those three adorable guys.” Victoria’s lame tactic to keep the peace. “If only I was younger.”
“You’re not old,” Heather said, refusing to let the three ogling men catch her eye. Normally it would be a fun, but today she was in no mood.
“Ed and I are celebrating our 30th wedding anniversary next year.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re old. You married when you were six, right?”
Catherine giggled. “You know, they are cute, all of them. Hey, three of them, three of us.” Her attempt at a seductive wink almost made Heather vomit her salad.
What did Catherine know about hot guys? Peter, with his slicked back hair looked like a chiseled parasite in a stiff white shirt. Then again, all she had was the picture on Catherine’s desk to go by. What Peter saw in a nerd like her was more mysterious. Heather liked her men big and muscular, biceps popping, huge delts, washboard stomach. Yum.
Heather shook her head in disgust, then reached into her jacket pocket for a twenty and tossed a crumbled bill onto the table.
“One of them is coming over here!” Catherine put her hand over her chest.
“I’m sure he’s just going to the bathroom.” Heather stared out the window again.
“No, the bathroom’s in the other direction. He’s coming right to us.”
Heather peered up to see a six-foot tall man with a Mets cap scrunched low on his forehead. Muscles stretched the confines of his raspberry colored T-shirt, his hands plunged into the front pockets of his dark blue jeans. Mmm. How good did his ass look in them?
He stopped in front of Heather, mouth remained shut, but lips climbed to a huge grin. Heather searched under his baseball cap for an answer. He tilted his head up and the fluorescent light hit the unmistakable features instantly.
“Hi.” His timid smile unchanged after all these years.
Her eyes widened, mouth opened, unable to formulate words. The salad in her stomach twisted in knots and her breathing became restricted. “Hi, sorry, I didn’t, I’m so sorry, I…” She nudged Catherine, then shoved her hard, and struggled out of the booth wrestling herself to a standing position.
It was
him
. She stood only inches away, his familiar Ralph Lauren cologne pulsed through her. How long had it been? She knew exactly how long it had been. Down to the month.
Chapter 2
Catherine
Catherine slid back into the booth angered at the abrasive way Heather shoved her, but more upset that the man in the Mets cap approached Heather and not her. The pain in her clenched jaw intensified. She turned back to Victoria, whose wrinkled brow deepened and hardened.
“What are you looking at?” Victoria asked.
“Nothing, how much is the bill?” She reached into her Coach bag. Darn it. She should have purchased the smaller Michael Kors one instead. She shuffled the contents around, searching for her wallet. “What are they doing over there anyway?”