34 Seconds (6 page)

I knew this couldn’t be healthy. I was married. I was a happily married woman, and he was about to be married. And there I was not speaking because I was thinking about the great sex I had with him almost ten years earlier just feet from where we stood. I had to say something, and I had to say it quick. And whatever I came up with couldn’t reveal my thoughts or my surprise at seeing him here. I felt butterflies releasing and taking flight in my stomach. It was such a familiar feeling around Will. I absently put my hand on my stomach to calm the butterflies and acknowledge the growing familiar knot.

“Will!” I thought I was doing well so far. “How are you?” I walked over for a gentle hug. I reminded myself to hug with the shoulders, not with the waist. And don’t linger. I didn’t need to feel him against me right then. That would not be good at all. Don’t hug with the waist, I kept telling myself. Then I realized, we’d been hugging a few seconds too long. My hips were suddenly aware of his body touching them. I had given him a purely natural whole body hug, and I didn’t want to let go. Whole body hugs or simple shoulder hugs are no different if they linger.

“So, how’s Rebecca? Is she ready for the wedding?” Rebecca was the fiancé of course, and I was astounded I could remember her name at all in the moment. And to say it without spitting was a bonus for me.

“She’s good, Nik, real good. I think she’s nervous about the wedding, but only because she has a bunch of family she hasn’t seen in years coming in from Maryland. Something her mother insisted on since we went with the small beach ceremony instead of the huge church wedding she’d always planned for her little girl. You know how it is.” His voice trailed off like he was leaving something out. I imagined he was feeling his own bachelor days ending, pre-wedding jitters himself.

Yes, I knew how it was. Wait. What? No, I had no idea how it was. Chris and I got married in Las Vegas in a little chapel with a few family members, and everyone was very happy for us. It was like a planned eloping with guests. But I guess pre-wedding jitters are normal, and anything with a large family is nerve wracking anyway, so I guess I could relate a little. I couldn’t relate to the nerves she might be feeling about saying “I do” to Will because I never got the opportunity to feel those particular jitters.

“Will, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at some bar watching some scantily clad woman perform a last dance with a rose between her teeth and a few drinks in your hands?” I asked Will, wondering how he ended up at the same dark lonely pool I did on the same night two days before his wedding to a woman I didn’t know.

“Well, Nikki Jay,” Will said, backing away from me on heels teetering close to the pool’s edge. Nikki Jay was a nickname he gave me years ago, short for Nikki Jackson. He’s the only one who had ever called me Nikki Jay. More butterflies took off in my stomach. “You know I’ve never been one for roses and scantily clad women. I’m more of a beer in a can by a pool kind of guy. Besides, I figured you’d be hanging out with Liza, and when you two get together, you usually end up naked in this pool. So I thought I’d get lucky and swing by.” I could see a smirk crossing his face even in the low light of the pool. Or maybe I just imagined his beautiful grin melting my heart as it crept from one side of his mouth to the other.

“Didn’t you just say you’re not one for scantily clad women, Will?”

“Naked isn’t scant, Nikki Jay. It’s naked. Where is your man tonight, Nik?” Will asked me with a curiosity which told me to back away, and go home to my man, and to my children, and stay as far away from getting naked and in the pool as I possibly could.

“Chris and the kids are at my dad’s house. And I don’t think I’ll be getting in any pool tonight, Will. I didn’t bring my bathing suit,” I said as I took a step back and almost stumbled on a tree root sticking above ground. “Besides, Liza told me it’s chlorine water now, not salt water. If I come half way across the country to swim, it will be in salt water. I think it’s best I leave soon anyway. I’m feeling a little…uncomfortable.” I couldn’t believe I had just said it out loud. Uncomfortable? Was that what I felt? Or was a better word vulnerable? Or maybe it was questionable. I was feeling all those things because a part of me was angry at Will for suggesting we get naked and in the pool. And part of me was angry because I really wanted to get naked in the pool with Will. But I also knew what I wanted was to be eighteen again. I didn’t want to be a married woman in a pool with an old boyfriend who was about to be married. I didn’t want to be there with a new gate and moss all over the fence and chlorinated water with over grown trees and bushes that hadn’t seen a set of trimming shears in many years. I didn’t want to accept life moving on too. Had moved on rather. I could accept I was older and married with children, but I expected the world around me to stand still and wait for me to be ready for growth and change. It turns out life doesn’t wait for us to be ready.

I walked over to Liza about the same time our other oldest and dearest friend walked up to the pool. We grew up with Amy at our side, car dancing with Liza and me. Car dancing was an old favorite when there was nothing else to do. When we weren’t sneaking into the pool, we were cruising along the three miles of beaches dancing in the car, on top of the car, and outside of the car. It was a pastime favorite of the Deltaville country folk. The three of us walked down the aisle together to get our diplomas, and then Amy split to Mexico for a few years to study ancient Maya lands and Latin men. I think she studied mixed drinks and bartenders more than anything, though. She came back with four tattoos, several piercings, and a baby. The baby was about ten or twelve years old, and Amy would tell anyone who would listen that men are disposable. She was the best person to be with Liza right then. I think she could probably tell Liza all she wanted to hear about how horrible men were and how she didn’t need them. Amy was the person who introduced me to something called The Bullet. I never tried one because she said she couldn’t orgasm without one when she was with a man, but she also said because of it, she would never need a man. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be there in my life. I loved being with my husband, and I liked that he could bring me to orgasm without ammunition.

“Nikki Jackson Ford! How the hell are ya, girl?” Amy yelled at the top of her lungs as if we owned all the houses on the street. The mom in me immediately thought of all the sleeping children in those homes who were just woken by the strident sound of Amy’s voice. Then I remembered most of the houses were empty much of the year. This time of year there were probably just the retired locals and the vacationing grandparents in town. It would still be a few weeks before summer and before the accompanying summer tenants hit Deltaville. And if my memory served correctly, most of the year round residents on this street wouldn’t hear a bomb if it went off in their own backyard. I remember hearing the sounds of TV news coming from all those houses in the summer time growing up. We’d all laugh at how we didn’t have to watch the news; all we had to do was walk down the street to hear it. Once the news was over, the street was silent; except for the giggling and splashing down at the pool of course.

“Amy!” I said, walking over to hug her. “How are you? How is Adelaide? What grade is she in now? I haven’t seen her in what seems like years, she must be close to middle school by now.”

“Addy is in eighth grade. She starts high school next year. I can’t believe it myself most days. She’s a handful. She’s not into boys, thank the Lord, but she does have a girlfriend who hangs around a lot,” Amy winked at me. “I wonder sometimes if they aren’t, you know, getting to know each other a little better. There’s been rumors about this friend being gay, but I just don’t know. I want Addy to grow up not depending on men, but I’m not sure if I want her sleeping with women either. Shit, we are more whack than most men are.” Amy seemed to almost laugh off this new revelation about her daughter. Knowing Amy has experimented with a few women herself, I knew she’d be open minded about Adelaide dating a girl. I just wondered about the family she had there in the little Southern town.

Instead of saying what I was thinking, I simply stated, “Well, she’s too young to date anyone right now, so you can’t worry about who she may or may not pick for her future. She’ll be fine. Just don’t tell her men and women are disposable; she’s got to be open to loving someone,” I said with a smile. We all need someone to love. Though for some, one person is often too much.

“Nikki. With all the right things to say. She’s too young. Don’t worry. Do right by her. How’d you get so smart anyway, Nikki?” It was Liza who spoke this time, and she was oozing sarcasm. I felt like I was stepping out of my boundaries with my old friends, and I was about to be called out on it. But Liza continued, “Amy, I know men are not disposable. I think you really want to find someone to love, but you spend so much time jumping away from relationships, you wouldn’t know a good guy if he bit you, because you’d be running from him after you put your bullet to work.” I could tell Liza was sobering up because her southern slurs were starting to diminish, but I could also see an argument coming on.

“Men are disposable, Liza. When you learn that, I won’t have to listen to you cry for months on end over a loser who led you to believe he was your knight in shining armor when all along he was just a silly pirate. And I don’t need a man for sex, that’s exactly what the bullet is for. Men are no good at it anyway. It really takes a woman to show a woman how to feel good. But women are too emotional for me, so for me, it takes a little steel. I’m not going to argue with you, Liza, you are too emotional for me, and I’m sure you started drinking early this morning, so there’s no reasoning with you anyway.” Amy walked away.

Will came over at the most inopportune time. “Did I hear someone talking about doing some girl on girl action over here? Now this is the bachelor party of my dreams. Maybe Nikki and I can watch from the pool where we can get reacquainted. Whaddya say, Nik? For old time’s sake, the two of us in the pool, and to celebrate all of us moving on, maybe the two lesbos over there can get it on.”

“Will, they are not lesbians. One doesn’t like men. One hates men. But it doesn’t make them lesbians. It makes them angry at men. If you try having a bachelor party with them, it may end in you hanging from your balls on the light pole. And I’m not getting naked in the pool with you. I am married. You are about to be married. I’m going home. Now. Before anything crazier happens here. Maybe you all need to think outside this town, put the bottles down, and look at your lives here. Will, you are to be married. What would Rebecca think if she knew you were out here hitting on your old girlfriend? Don’t make me regret coming home. Now, I’m going down to my dad’s house. We are taking the girls to Williamsburg tomorrow. I will see you all in two days.” I gave Amy and Liza hugs, whispered “I love you” to them both, and glared at Will for a moment, then smiled. I had to smile. At least I hoped it came off as a warning glare and not a look which said, “Never mind, take me here and now, dear old soon to be married boyfriend. Let us pretend we are not who we say we are and lose ourselves in one another for the next few hours before our real lives call us back.” My warning glare and my own thoughts were giving me mixed signals. I grabbed Will’s hand, in an effort to hold on to something, even insanity, reached up, kissed his cheek, and told him I loved him before walking back to Liza’s house for my sister’s car.

Stingray Bay Hills Road has a speed bump every few hundred feet. I think the speed bumps were the only hills around. As a kid on a bicycle they were a blast. We’d try to get our speed up and jump them. I still had scars on my knees from falling off my bike onto those speed bumps and the gravel surrounding them. As a driver, the speed bumps were just a huge pain in the ass. You can’t go fast enough to actually drive over them without bottoming out because they are so tall and so close together, and when you go slow enough to manage them, they hit so hard your head practically hits the ceiling of the car. It takes about fifteen minutes to drive the mile long bumpy stretch. I could walk it faster. I remember spinning out of Will’s driveway a few times, wishing I could speed away in anger, only to have to come to an almost complete stop before each massive bump in the road. I couldn’t imagine living in Stingray Bay Hills and ever being late. I was sure I’d lose my transmission trying to get anywhere on time, and then I’d be left stranded without a car anyway.

It took me almost twenty minutes to drive the few miles to my father’s house. When I got close, I ended up in the neighbors’ driveway because my father’s driveway was so overgrown with grass and weeds, I couldn’t see it in the dark. It was only when I drove past the fence post on the neighbor’s property line, I knew I had passed Dad’s driveway. I guess some things change and grow and some things don’t change. The chlorine in the salt water pool really bothered me, as did the weed ridden driveway, but when I saw everyone, I really felt blessed to be away most of the year. It was always nice to come home. I wouldn’t want to have a reason to not go there and never return, but each time I returned, it was all a little older, and I was further reminded I was better off not living there.

I left Natalie’s car on the grass still showing a bit of gravel underneath. I was sure it was where the drive way once was. I yelled a little “Fuck!” when I ran into a spider web walking to the house. As soon as the expletive came out, I saw a little orange glow coming from where I remembered a chair once sitting on Dad’s deck.

“Did the spider getcha? She builds ‘em big, that spider does,” Dad said to me, puffing on his cigarette. I should have known he’d be sitting outside in the dark. It’s how he always greeted me when I was growing up. I would only know it was him when I saw the glow from his cigarette.

“I don’t know how you still live in the middle of the woods, Dad. This is a little too much nature for me. Don’t you have motion lights on the garage? I couldn’t see the driveway and… shit, do you think she’s in my hair?” I suddenly put my hand on my head, feeling for what I just knew would be a big hairy spider with a million little spider babies on her back. I was not sure if those wolf spiders built such large webs, but out there in the woods, a hairy baby-carrying momma wolf spider was always what I imagined. And now she’d be in my bed. If not in my bed, then in my dreams. And when I was dreaming of a spider, I may as well have been sleeping with her too. There is a little eight year old girl who still lives somewhere inside me, and she hoards this memory of a giant black widow coming to get her while she sleeps. It’s a memory I have from childhood. When I was about eight years old, my father caught a massive black widow spider and put her in a jar in the kitchen window. That night I had a dream. I knew it was just a dream, but I thought I was lucky because she was so large she couldn’t fit down the hall to get to my room. Otherwise, the little eight year old girl I used to be may have become spider food instead of the mom and wife she became. Inside me there is a small child who is dwarfed by the red hourglass spot on the spider’s belly. Inside me is also a little girl who can’t seem to remember she is bigger than the spiders. I fear any and all spiders, especially if I have walked into one’s web.