Don't Explain (27 page)

“You want to go bowling?” Caitlyn asked into the phone. She knew he liked
bowling, beer, and pizza so maybe the combination would lighten the mood for
the serious conversation.

“We can't tonight, but how about tomorrow?” was his response.

“That's fine.” She paused. “Can it be just the two of us?”

He hesitated with a sigh, “I don't want Margaret to get the wrong idea.
After what you said to her, she doesn't really trust you alone with me.”

“Right.” Caitlyn played along for the moment. This was going to
complicate things, but she could work with it. Her mother was going to be out
of the hospital soon, and this might be the last chance she had for a long
time.

 “But it will be fun for the three of us to go bowling. I know that you
could be great friends… if you talked about anything except me.”

When he brought up Margaret and their relationship, she became
disinterested in the conversation and was only complying to get him to come. “Sure
thing. Do you want to meet there at 6:00?”

“Sounds like a plan then.” The receiver went dead for a moment, “I’m glad
you called, Murph. I want to be your friend, but it’s going to take a while for
us to get used to that. If we don’t practice, it’ll never happen. I told
Margaret everything, and she understands. I was just in a bad place when she
left, and you helped me out. Just hang in there a little longer, and it won't
be awkward anymore.”

“I'll see you there, Michael.” She hung up the phone angrily. She
contemplated his final comments very carefully and saw that he was officially
belittling their relationship. She figured that he would change it a bit for
Margaret, but for him to say to Caitlyn that “she helped him out” was
unbearable. Tomorrow, she thought aggressively, the charade would end, and
Margaret would have to answer for herself.

#

Michael hung up the phone and sighed heavily. He looked over at Margaret
who was eating crackers to settle her stomach and watching some TV drama that
he didn't find interesting. She looked up at him and asked who was on the
phone.

“It was Caitlyn. We're all going bowling tomorrow.”

“You should have asked me. I hate bowling. Besides, I don’t know how
comfortable I feel around her at this point. It’s still kind of sensitive.”

Michael made his way over to the couch to try and talk her into it. “She's
my friend,” he started calmly. “She shouldn't have said the things that she
said to you, but I told you she was a rebound. She's not a threat.” Michael was
not a great liar, but he was able to sell this to Margaret who split her
attention between him and the television.

Michael dreamt of Caitlyn nightly since seeing her in the hospital a few
days earlier. Though her scent and touch had begun to fade from his memory, he
was almost immediately aroused when he saw her. He tried to keep things
strictly friendly, but he got the feeling that he might be coming off too cold.
It surprised him when she called but was glad that he hadn't scared her away
completely.

“You should call one of your doctor friends from St. Vincent’s to go with
us. Set her up on a date.”

“I think she is dating someone.”

“Is he coming?”

“I don’t know for sure, but it didn’t sound like it.”

“Get someone to go with us. It will be less awkward.”

He looked down at her, and as much as he hated the idea, he agreed. At
least he wouldn’t have to see her with the other guy, and if she was dating
him, she probably wouldn’t warm up to whomever he brought.

Michael sat down on the couch next to Margaret and put his arm around her
shoulder. He was beginning to settle into his life with her. It wasn't perfect,
but it was becoming tolerable. They still hadn't had sex; he kept pushing it
off, but he was getting to a critical point, and it was difficult denying her
even if he had Caitlyn on his mind.

Margaret suddenly sat up and left the room without a word. As he watched
her leave, he wondered if sex with Margaret would be the same as before she
left him. It had satisfied his need but was uninspired. She would have him lie
flat on his back while she rode him sitting up, facing his feet, until he came,
and then she would slip off and go to sleep. In retrospect they shared no real
intimacy, and he couldn't remember the last time she even pretended to climax.

As if she had been reading his thoughts, Margaret reappeared in the room
wearing transparent, red baby doll lingerie. Her breasts were busting out of
the top and immediately drew his attention. She had pulled her hair out of the
low bun she had been sporting for days, and it was curled around her face
making her dark eyes pop.

He forgot all about the taskmaster she had been for the last few weeks as
she stood there, as provocative as the first time he met her. She beckoned him
with a single finger, and he rose to meet her at the entrance to the hallway.

This was it. He had to try to make it work with Margaret, and it was not
going to work without sex.

He wrapped his arms around her, grabbing her bare bottom and squeezing it
tightly in his hand. She pulled him closer and ran her fingers around his
groin. He leaned down and kissed her hard. He lifted her up and carried her to
their bedroom.

It didn't feel right.

He placed her on the bed and went to his night stand to grab a condom.
She rushed to grab it out of his hands. “You don't really need that now, do
you?” She threw it across the room.

He watched it fly through the air and land on the ground. He looked down
at Margaret. Something was wrong. She was acting weird. Too sexy. Too
desperate.

Michael crawled on top of her and kissed her hard. He tried to force
passion into the kiss, but he failed.

The image of Caitlyn came to his mind. He wanted to be able to kiss
Margaret and feel the way he felt with Caitlyn, but it wasn't coming to him.
Despite Margaret throwing herself at him, he failed to get aroused.

He raised himself off the bed and looked down at a confused Margaret. “I
need a shower,” he said plainly. He turned to walk away, but she grabbed him by
the pants and pulled him back to her.

“I could join you,” she said in a seductive voice.

“Thanks, but I think I'd rather just be alone.” He removed her hand from
his pants and locked himself in the bathroom.

This would be so much easier if he wasn't in love with someone else.

#

Caitlyn had a glass of beer from the pitcher she bought before the couple
arrived at the bowling alley. Her nerves were unlike anything that she had felt
before: her stomach flipped and flopped, her head pounded. She normally did not
approve of calming herself with outside substances, but she made an exception
in this case. Her plan was not as well thought out as she had originally wanted,
and this made her exceedingly nervous. She wondered when she would do it, if
Margaret insisted on being there; how she would do it, if it should be hinted
at or straightforward; and what she would do afterward, if anything at all.

Margaret marched into the alley in one of her sweater sets. Michael
looked around the room, and Caitlyn began waving her arms wildly above her head
to indicate her location. The two made their way to lane thirteen where Caitlyn
stood in goofy shoes, beer in hand. A guy seemed to be following them over to
the lane, staring at her intently, but she didn't recognize him.

“Caitlyn,” Michael began, “I would like to introduce you to Tom. I work
with him occasionally at St. Vincent’s.” He paused for a moment.

She considered putting her beer down and leaving immediately, but she
knew that tonight was too important to storm out.

“I thought you two might hit it off.”

Tom held out his hand, and she took it in hers while she surveyed the man
before her. He was attractive on his own, but next to Michael, he could not
compete. His dirty blonde hair lay to one side, flatly. He was short and fairly
skinny and had a crooked smile that put her at ease and strangely appealed to
her.

Caitlyn took Tom’s hand, and he pulled her a little bit closer to him. “You
didn't know?”

She looked at him and lifted her brows and indistinctly shook her head, “No.”

“Do you want me to go?”

At least he was a gentleman. It could be a lot worse.

“No. Stay. It'll be good to have a buffer from those two.” She turned her
gaze to Michael and Margaret. His followed, and he laughed.

“I know what you mean.”

Michael was watching them intently, and Caitlyn laced her arm through Tom's
as they headed to the counter behind the lane.

“I got our college party staple,” she poured glasses for Michael and Tom.
“It's not good, but it's cheap.” She slid one over to Tom and then held out the
second glass for Michael while sipping her own. Michael took the glass from her
but immediately set it down on the counter.

“None for me, thanks. I want to support Margaret, and as long as she can't
have a drink, I am not going to drink either.”

Caitlyn gagged a little on her beer from his sick sweetness and kept
gagging on the stale smell of cigarettes from the days when people chain smoked
in places like this. Her living arrangements were going to smell a lot like
this soon. At least she hoped it would be stale.

She set her beer down. “Well, I guess we won't need a whole pitcher then.”
She slid the pitcher and her glass away from the party.

Tom looked at her and said, “I'll help with the pitcher. It makes me a
better bowler anyway.”

Tom was sweet to offer to help, but she decided that she wouldn't numb
herself after all; at least anymore. A wave of nausea swept over her as she sat
down on the hard plastic of one of the orange and white quad benches. “You guys
need shoes and balls. Why don't you go grab them while I set us up in the
computer?”

“Oh, I don't think I am going to play,” Margaret said, waving her hands
in front of her. “I don't want to strain myself with heavy weights, and besides
my back already hurts.” Caitlyn gagged a bit again, took a deep breath, and
shook it off. Her head pounded even more with Margaret's high voice filling her
ears.

Michael and Tom went off to grab gear, and Margaret grabbed Caitlyn's arm
and looked her in the eyes. “If you say anything to him, I will destroy you.” Caitlyn
thought for a moment about how childish Margaret was acting. Who says,
I
will destroy you
?

“Whatever,” was Caitlyn's response as she shook off Margaret's grip. Margaret
didn't have any power. She was the one about to be destroyed.

Caitlyn, Michael, and Tom began their game, and after a while, they began
to have fun. They laughed at one another's gutter balls and low scores, while
cheering on and doing dances after a rare spare or even rarer strike. Margaret
attempted to make Caitlyn jealous by slobbering all over Michael after each
turn and hanging on his arm like a bag when he wasn't bowling. Caitlyn
considered doing the same with Tom, but she did not want to use him like that.
He was a sweet guy and while they were having fun, their body language mutually
agreed that anything more wouldn't work.

 Despite Margaret's over-the-top behavior, Caitlyn was beginning to lose
sight of her purpose. Her stomach growled, so she called a timeout to refuel.
They walked out of the pit and sat at the stools behind the counter where a
large pizza awaited them. Michael carefully chose his seat between the two
women.

“I am starving!” Caitlyn exclaimed. She grabbed a slice of the pizza,
pulled on the cheese strings vigorously to detach it from the pie as quickly as
possible, and stuffed it into her mouth. Margaret suddenly slapped her hand
over her mouth, spun the stool toward the back of the bowling alley, and flew
through the restroom door across the hallway. Michael started to follow her,
but Caitlyn reminded him that it was the ladies' room, and he did not make the
cut. So, he too grabbed a slice and began eating.

Tom's phone rang, and he moved to the exit to answer an apparent business
call.

Caitlyn quickly recognized this opportunity as the only one she might
have in the evening to talk to Michael alone. She decided to take advantage of
it. “Michael, there's something that I need to tell you.”

“Shoot, Murph.” He said casually biting into his slice. She knew that he
wouldn't be so casual for much longer.

“I don't really know how to put this any other way except to be up front.
When I was at your house two weeks ago, I saw ovulation strips on the bathroom
counter.” She paused to watch his reaction, but he didn't react. “Margaret
wouldn't need them if she was really pregnant.”

Michael turned his eyes to hers, eyebrows kneaded inward in irritation, “What
exactly are you trying to say?”

She stopped, recognizing the significance of this moment, and questioned
her motives. She was about to dismiss the whole idea and just let it play out
naturally, but realized it was already too late. “Margaret isn't pregnant.” She
was serious and firm in her tone but really wanted to break into tears and hug
him. The tension in his body told her that her hugs would not be welcome.