One Week Three Hearts: (2 page)

My husband and his totally inappropriate analogies he uses to make a point. I love him.

"That agreement on the table is probably the most unselfish thing he's ever done," Jason said as he tied his shoe, then walked over to where she sat on the bed and put his hands on her shoulders. "Please sign it so I can deposit the check. Promise me you'll do it today."

His pleading expression coupled with the light comforting squeeze melted away some of Rose's doubt, but she couldn't let the one nagging issue about the contract go. "That clause… the one about custody," she said. "Jason, I don't know how I feel about that."

Jason's immediate laugh sounded almost forced. "Oh, please! The last thing Matt wants is to be a father. The known donor agreement is just his crazy way of saying he wants us to stay married. Come on, we've been together for ten years, and I'm sure we'll be together for a lot longer than that. Why would that be an issue? Besides, we don't have to use his, um, stuff if we don't want or need to. I love you, but now I need to get going because I'm already two hours behind."

He kissed her forehead. "Stop over-thinking this and sign the papers," he said over his shoulder before heading out.

Rose sat on the bed for a few more minutes and replayed the conversation in her head. Something about what Jason said was off, but she couldn't figure out what exactly caused her unease.
 
Nothing could be considered normal from this point on. How would they fit Matt into their life, especially now that he spelled out in black and white that he didn't want to be a part of it?

It's a known donor agreement, not an anonymous donor agreement. Focus on the known.

Tightening the slipping bathrobe belt, Rose entered the kitchen and stared at the pile of papers. She grabbed a pen from a catch-all drawer. Jason's initials in blue ink stood out against the stark white paper on the bottom of every page next to the blank line awaiting hers. Rose realized he signed all of it a while ago, and tenderness touched her heart.

He wants this baby as much as I do. And he deserves to be a father more than anyone. Money for the treatments isn't exactly going to fall from the sky; we'll probably take out a second mortgage to finance the rest. That's going to be hard on one income, and our health insurance doesn't cover any treatments. He's right — this is the only way to go, and Matt is being extremely generous.

Even though the clause still bothered her, Rose concluded that if her husband was okay with all of this, then she was too. She worked her way through the documents. When she got to the page with the custody clause, the pen seemed to hesitate for a full minute before she could write her initials. Pages flew by quickly after that, and she signed her name next to her husband's with a flourish on the final piece of paper.

Before she could change her mind, Rose shoved the stack of papers into the priority mail envelope addressed to Matt's lawyer downtown, tightened the bathrobe's belt around her waist again, and went outside to the condo complex's mailbox in her bare feet. The outgoing mail slot was just big enough for her to push through the bulky envelope. It landed inside with a thunk.

Friction from her movements caused the ill-fitting belt to loosen. A passing neighbor might catch an unrestricted view. Holding the bathrobe together, she ran back into their condo. Breathing heavy from the short sprint, Rose went back into the kitchen to deal with the box on the table.

Everything seemed still and quiet as she grasped each of the cardboard box's flaps and ripped the remaining packing tape apart. Pushing the air-filled plastic bags aside, several individually wrapped SD memory cards were arranged on top of some other smaller boxes and a metal rod type thing tucked in between. Puzzled by the contents, she pulled out the memory cards to reveal a box indicating it held a high-end camcorder as its contents.

The other small boxes appeared to be various accessories for the camcorder: two extra large capacity batteries, a remote, a package of AA rechargeable batteries with a charger, and something else in a small plain black box. The metal rods turned out to be a lightweight travel tripod type thing.

A white envelope was the only remaining item in the box. Rose sucked in her breath when she pulled out and read the three words on the enclosed card:

SHOW ME YOU.

Chirps from her mobile phone snapped Rose out of her stupor. She put everything back in the box and carried it into the bedroom. Jason's smiling face displayed on the phone's screen, and she answered the phone after depositing the box on the bed.

"Did you sign them?" Jason asked after she breathlessly greeted him. The bathrobe opened on its own again. Frustration doubled over from the stupid belt, and Jason's constant insistence to sign the papers she already signed. The box on the bed and trying to figure out what time it was in Shanghai seemed more important than assuring Jason that yes, she mailed the papers.

"So they are in the mail?"

"Yes, they are signed and in the mail. Everything is wonderful. Have a great day. Love you." She hung up, and tried to think about the meaning of Matt's gifts.

What does he mean by 'show me you?' Does he want a tour of the condo? Watch me babble about funny YouTube videos and lolcats?

The phone rang again. Rose didn't bother identifying the caller.
"Jason, I told you—"

"This isn't Jason."

A tennis ball-sized lump blocked her throat. Matt's voice crackled through the faint overseas connection. Stunned by the short duration between the two calls, Rose sat hard on the bed. Her mouth hung open. It was a good thing Matt didn't wait for a greeting or small talk because her vocal cords decided to go on a break.

"Look Rose, it's 2:30 in the morning here and I have to get some sleep," Matt said. "I emailed you instructions to upload videos, so check your inbox. One video file per month is all I ask. There won't be any further communications from me while I'm out here."

The phone almost slid from her damp hands to the floor, and the small distraction melted the lump in her throat. "I don't understand what I'm supposed to show you," Rose said. Hating the squeaky resonance in her voice, she took a deep breath in an effort to calm herself. "Please tell me what you want."

His yawn reeked of exhaustion. "Just what it says on the note. There should be an item in that package to help you figure that out."

Rose quickly looked over the contents before explaining the package contained a camera and some accessories. Matt told her to search the box again, then abruptly ended the call.

What is he talking about? Here's the camera, the SD cards, extra batteries for the camera, the tripod, the rechargeable AA batteries with a charger, a plain black box that probably has the remote for the camera…

Plain black box.

Cursing herself for not figuring it out without Matt's prompt, Rose's fingernail slid through the small box's plastic seal. Shaking the opened box caused a cylindrical object to drop through her fingers and land softly on the askew comforter. Remembering it was Matt who sent this pocket rocket vibrator, Rose shook her head at the momentary lapse to complete naivety.

Rechargeable AA batteries, Matt? Really?

After unpacking everything from its respective packaging and setting it all up, Rose pointed the camcorder perched on the tripod towards the bed she shared with Jason. The marital setting seemed too intimate and invasive, so Rose instead aimed the camcorder at the chair. Nervous butterflies danced in her stomach as she fiddled with the auto-focus feature to frame a significant area around the chair.

Should I bother putting make-up on? Maybe some lip gloss or something?

Rose dashed to the bathroom and dug through her make-up bag on the counter for some mascara and a favorite bright lipstick. Perfect for the evening, the eye shadow palette tempted her, but the simple make-up application seemed to look more natural. One quick run through her hair with the brush, and Rose's confidence somewhat returned as she made her way back to the bedroom. Grabbing the camcorder's remote and the vibrator, Rose attempted to position herself in a seductive position on the chair.

I feel absolutely, positively ridiculous.

The camcorder's emotionless black lens stared back at her as she pressed the record button on the remote. A red recording light dimly glowed like a taunting eye.

Okay, deep breath. I can't think about what Matt wants; I need to think about what I want. What I need that I don't get from Jason. Same as when Matt and I talked years ago. Whatever it is that makes me switch this thing on and use it on myself. And I have to be detailed or he'll just keep coming at me, prying, questioning, probing…

The terry lining of the bathrobe itched, and Rose shifted in the chair. Frustration levels with the old and non-sexy bathrobe jumped to maximum capacity limit. Yanking her arms out from the sleeves, Rose stood up, balled it up, and then flung it on the bed where it landed on Jason's pillow. After fishing out the vibrator and camcorder remote from the crevice between the cushion and the chair's arm, she sat on the chair hard enough to rock it backwards.

Throwing the bathrobe like that probably didn't look too sexy. Or anything else I just did.

Hair strands hung loosely around her face. Rose exhaled hard enough to temporarily displace them as she balanced the remote on the arm of the chair. Holding the vibrator loosely in her right hand, she contemplated the task Matt presented from hundreds of miles away.

Why is this so hard? I faked it with Jason not even two hours ago. Why can't I simply have fun with this?

Rose took stock and realized how she was generally open and honest with Matt. Although difficult to admit, their electronic communication methods easily concealed expressions. He couldn't see if an eyebrow raised, a nose twitched, or if her eyes blinked more rapidly.

That artificial static was protective enough to reveal all her fantasies to Matt.

But not Jason.

Never her husband; those shameful thoughts Jason refused to encourage or participate in. He reaffirmed his stance this morning. There wouldn't be a change.

She reserved white lies for Matt to dangle a tempting lure of imagined punishment. No, she wasn't a good girl that day. She left the faucet running while she brushed her teeth. Panties were shoved into the dresser drawer unfolded, defying Matt's instructions. She'd say anything that bounced in her head to get that response she craved from him.

Rose licked her upper lip. Salt from the sweat already built up on her cupid's bow.

Instead of thinking about that night a few weeks ago, Rose's mind brought up memories long buried.

Focus. Think about Jason and Matt. Something. Anything.

It was no use.

Matt's hushed voice echoed through the headset connected to her mobile phone, precariously balanced on the plastic armrest. "Are you in your car?"

"Yes."

"You're not wearing any panties like I told you, right?"

Barely able to focus on processing vendor payments that morning, Rose sat at her desk constantly thinking about her thrilling secret none of her co-workers knew. Anticipating the lunchtime conversation scheduled with Matt had her speeding to the elevators shortly before noon.

"Right."

Five miles separated Matt's apartment from her company's parking lot. With traffic, Rose calculated she could be there in about fifteen minutes. All she had to do was turn the key in the ignition, put the car in reverse, back out of the parking spot…

The wedding ring on her left hand caught the mid-day sun. Her fingers slipped off the steering wheel.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

Liar, she thought as Matt cleared his throat. The wretched sound signaled distaste. It served as a priming indicator, a warning signal immediately followed by some admonishment for choosing the easy way out instead of explaining her thoughts. He would make her do something to herself now, and she breathlessly awaited the punishing reward.

"Open your legs until your knee is against the car door."

Matt didn't bother to confirm if she obeyed before he issued instructions to lift her skirt. A stray elbow knocked against her handbag. Among the contents that tumbled out on the passenger seat lay a jumbo binder clip she found that morning in her desk's top drawer.

Rose pushed the ridged switch on the small vibrator's plastic shaft forward until a low buzzing sound followed the audible click.

"Unbutton your shirt half way, then I want you to hold that clip open in your hands. That clip is my teeth. Remember, I want you to scream so loud that anyone in that parking lot will hear you and turn their heads to stare in your direction."

***

Antibacterial soap bubbles covered her hands as Rose scrubbed at the vibrator's silicone tip. Water puddled around the seams of the bathroom sink. She reached for a washcloth to mop it up, and her reflection in the mirror stared back. Was it shame or exertion that reddened her cheeks?

Leaving the device to dry on the bathroom counter and vowing to return for a shower, Rose approached the camera still on its tripod in their bedroom. Once the SD card was in her hand, she quickly walked to the spare room that served as their home office, and sat down at the computer desk.

Locating Matt's email containing the upload instructions took longer than she anticipated; there were too many lines detailing the limited-time sales she missed. Three for one bras. Twenty percent off furniture last weekend. Friendly reminder your bill is now due.

Rose sighed. Not a single line read 'Your Resume' or 'Interview.' Even the spammers gave up on her.

After scrolling through another page or two, she found the email with the innocent "Instructions" subject next to Matt's name. She clicked the containing link, entered the username and password spelled out in the email, and slid the SD card into the computer's reader.

I don't want to see myself like that. I don't want to know.