Chances Aren't (7 page)

"Okay, you're right. I do hate that bastard. I was just saying, hypothetically if I did allow her to use his contribution and we happened to have a boy, there are worse things in life than springing from the gene pool of a guy with a full head of hair, hung like a horse and with the balls to pull a stunt like that in a moving car."

"Yeah, but your son would have been an asshole."

"Maybe." I let out a long slow breath. "Just forget it."

He returns to his burger as I look out the window and sigh.

After our mediocre meal, we climb back in the car for the ninety minute drive back to the office.

Greg says, "Hey, if you need a couple weeks off to deal with all this, please take it."

"I'm fine, really."

"You can even use your sick time since you're really—"

"Has anyone ever told you that you're the best boss that's ever lived?"

He smiles. "Please take the time if you need it."

"I will."

As he turns on to the highway, I start thinking about Emily and how badly she wanted to be a mother— loving and nurturing, she's clearly perfect for the part. I think I would've made a pretty good father myself. I was looking forward to playing sports and teaching my children all that I could, but our failure was nowhere near the crushing blow to me as it was to her.

After all the years of trying to get pregnant, first just the two of us and then later with help, lots of help, when we finally threw in the towel, we probably should have gotten a divorce. Back then, at thirty five, Emily was still young enough to find a new husband and fulfill her dreams. Looking back, it escapes me what kept us together all these years because, in effect, we did give up on our marriage, we were just too lazy to file the necessary paperwork and divide up our DVD collection.

Returning to my desk at work, I jump right on Facebook and search for Laura Adams. The search returns some similar names, but after five minutes of following up I get nowhere. I perform a Google search and find a link to an address record on a site trying to sell me some ridiculous people finder service. The listing displays information about a previous address in Greenbelt, Maryland which convinces me that I've probably stumbled onto the correct record. Also listed are names of people in her family. Searching my memory, I do recall that Laura had a sister and when I see the name Barbara, I'm convinced now that I've found what I'm looking for.

Flipping back to my Facebook window, I search for Barbara Adams and get a hit. Barbara Adams Miller age forty eight. I pull up her page and review the public information that's available. She's married to David Miller has two kids and lives in Annapolis, Maryland. Clicking on her list of one hundred fifty eight friends, I pour over it searching for anyone named Laura, since maybe she's now listed under her married name, but even after all that work I come up empty. I sigh closing my eyes.

Returning to Barbara's main page, I click on the link to her daughter Hannah's page. She's twenty seven and I think Barbara looks really young to have a daughter that age. I search through Hannah's friends thinking sometimes nieces are friends with aunts, although it makes no sense that she would be friends with her and not her own sister, but I do it anyway. I mean, what's the alternative... doing some work?

After giving her son Joshua's page the same sort of once over and finding nothing helpful, I return to Barbara's page and sit back in my chair, staring at the screen. Then I notice the message button and click it.

Pausing another moment to think, I rub my chin crafting a note in my head...

You don't know me, but I had the best sex of my life with your sister Laura twenty five years ago and I cannot seem to find her. I'm wondering if she's somehow now single and also pining away for me. Please let me know.

I curl my lip, holding back a laugh as I type an actual message to Barbara that's a bit more politically correct. When I'm done, I hit the send button before I can change my mind.

Completely unable to concentrate, I leave work thirty minutes early and head to the gym. I'm still sore from my last visit, but I labor through ten minutes on the stepper and thirty minutes of weight lifting. On the way home I stop at the liquor store for a twelve pack and at the Chick-Fil-A across the street. There's something about that chicken sandwich with the pickles on it, I mean, it sounds kind of disgusting, but it's really good. I skip their fries because for some reason they can never cook them long enough and there's nothing worse than a pale white soggy fry. I really wish they would just cook them for another few minutes, because waffle fries have the potential to be freaking amazing. I know it's a religious bunch that runs that outfit, so maybe they believe that the first step toward the apocalypse is a golden brown waffle fry.

I arrive home around eight, immediately pop open a beer and devour my sandwich. Five minutes later, I'm gazing out the back door to Nina and Tom's house curious about what she's up to. Did she sleep okay last night or did my idiotic comments keep her up. I wonder how she met Tom and why they're together. I mean, he's not a bad looking guy, but she's a bit out of his league. He seems to be a little nerdy for her. I picture her to be the high school cheerleader type while he's more of a video games and Dungeons and Dragons kind of guy. Not that I should comment on this since I'm sure people could say the same thing about me and Emily.

Twisting off the top on beer number two, I stand still in the kitchen staring down at the floor. I have no idea what I should do. It's too early to go to sleep. If I do, I'll be wide awake at three. I plop down in front of the TV and flip the channels. After running through all of them, I get an idea. I badly need to recharge my work batteries, I'll watch
Office Space
. It's a cult classic movie from the late nineties. The first time I saw it I was crying with laughter, since it hit so close to home in its parody of life in the corporate world. I especially love the montage scene where the main character gutted a fish on his desk before unscrewing his cubicle wall and pushing it over. When it crashes to the office floor, papers go flying and his colleagues look on in shock, but he simply smiles looking out the big picture window at his newly captured view. You see he hated his job and doesn't believe people were meant to sit in cubicles staring at computer screens all day. He's right. Even though he escapes from the cubicle in the story and I know that I never will, somehow this movie makes me feel better about my life and my job.

I polish off two more beers before the credits roll and I'm feeling pretty good. There's nothing like drinking on a mostly empty stomach. It hits you so quickly and you don't feel so incredibly full. It's almost eleven and I stand at the refrigerator debating whether or not to grab beer number five. Figuring what the hell, I go for it and head outside to sit next to the pool. I'm still wearing my shorts and T-shirt from the gym, so I pull off my shoes and socks and dip my legs into the warm water.

Placing my icy-cold beer next to me, I lean back, close my eyes and take a deep breath. After taking another sip, I look to Nina's house and spot a single light shining on the second floor. Kicking my feet lazily in the water, I sip from my beer with my head spinning simply enjoying that buzzed feeling. As I gaze down into the moonlit pool, I'm reminded of yet another girl from my past. There was this summer I dated a life guard. We never became serious, but I just flashed back to hanging out with her in the pool and that time we climbed the fence where she worked and swam in our underwear. Those were fun times, even though we never really were close.

Looking back up to Nina's house, I see all the lights are now out. She's probably in bed. It's the only house with a view to my backyard so I figure what the hell. I pull off my shirt, take a sip of beer then stand at the side of the pool. After looking once more to my darkened neighbor's house, I slide my shorts and boxer briefs down and let the warm air wash over my body as I take a deep breath.

I think we should all swim naked since it's such a pain in the ass to deal with a wet swimsuit, not to mention finding one that actually fits. They make swim suits completely wrong now with ties that don't go around the entirety of the waist band. It makes no sense, they only tie around a few loops in the front, tightening up just the smallest bit of slack in the suit. So unless you go with a small, much too tight pair of trunks, which went out of style right after Annette Funicello stopped making Beach Blanket Bingo movies, your suit is undoubtedly going to be falling off. Skinny dipping is a much better idea for the world. I mean, sure a public pool would be really disgusting with all those naked parts flopping around in it, but in my own pool, this is perfect.

I descend the steps slowly into the tepid water and it feels amazing. Lifting my legs up, I float for a moment before bending at the waist, taking a deep breath and holding it. Then using my hands, I drive my body lower until my head is completely submerged. I hold still a moment, floating just below the surface while falling into a deep state of relaxation. I resurface, take a breath then lunge forward and swim the length of my small pool and back before returning to my beer. After taking a sip, I feel energized and push away from the side to do another lap, then another and now I'm getting into it and set a goal of thirty. At seventeen, my heart is pounding out of my chest and I'm gasping for breath. I push myself harder and keep going. At twenty eight, I feel like I could die. Taking a big breath, I dive deep and swim the length of the pool without taking a breath. I turn around while underwater, push off from the wall and fight my way back toward my beer with my body crying out for oxygen. Halfway back I'm tempted to give up, but I push myself and kick my feet faster. I reach for the wall, but instead my hand lands on something fleshy and soft. Startled, I lift my head from the water and look up, spotting Nina sitting with her legs in the pool. She's wearing a one piece bathing suit and I hold onto the wall next to her gasping for air.

"Shit, sorry," I struggle to say as I turn away, suddenly realizing I'm not wearing a thing.

She giggles. "You’re really working hard there."

Covering my junk with my hands I move to stand ten feet from her near the center of the pool as I still fight to catch my breath. "Yeah, I, uh... just got in and, um, felt like doing some laps."

"Naked?"

I cringe, busted. "You noticed, huh?"

"It was hard not to."

"Um, well, yeah, I didn't have a bathing suit handy."

"Uh-huh." Picking up my beer bottle, she smiles. "And I see you're drinking tonight also."

I nod. "Just a couple and I was hot, yeah I was hot so, I, uh, I thought you were asleep... I mean, I wasn't watching your house or anything... I mean, I was... but just to make sure you were safe and—"

"I understand." She shakes her head and smiles.

"So I just sorta jumped in."

"How's it feel?"

"Pretty good actually."

She kicks her legs languidly through the water, lifting one out and holding it steady for a moment. My eyes are glued to her shapely calf muscle as she extends her toe back to the water. I swallow hard and quickly look away. "What have you been doing tonight?"

"I was drinking too— wine though. I finished that bottle we started last night while I watched more of the Arias trial coverage."

"Oh."

"She's one crazy girl. They were playing some of the sex tapes. They taped some of their phone sex calls and it was very graphic. I mean, she's talking about how he's got the perfect penis and how it hits her in just the right spot. Really dirty stuff. Then I couldn't sleep and when I heard you out here in the pool, I remembered you said I could swim whenever I wanted, so..."

"I did say that. Actually, I invited you both over... um, you know, you and Tom."

"Tom's not here, remember?"

Still covering up down there, I slowly move back until I reach the wall of the pool. Leaving one hand in the water, I bring the other elbow up and place it on the edge of the deck. "He comes back tomorrow, right?"

"He does."

My elbow slips off the edge and I lose my balance, scraping my arm and shoulder in the process as I fall into the water up to my nose. I right myself, arms flailing around as I cough up the water I swallowed. My eyes are tearing up and I must look like a complete spaz.

"Are you okay?" She gives me a concerned look.

Rubbing my shoulder, I make a goofy face. "I'm okay. That was really smooth."

We share a laugh until I remember I'm exposed. "Oh, shit." I recover the problem area. "Sorry, about that."

"You don't have to cover up— I see penises all day, every day."

"Really?"

"Testicles too. Lots of testicles... Actually twice as many... wait except for that guy who came in with just one." She breaks into a chuckle.

"What do you do again?"

"I assist an urologist in surgery. Mostly he does vasectomies."

"That's right."

"So, you had a guy with just one ball, huh?"

"Yeah." She widens her eyes. "It was a big ball though. I mean, really big." Cupping her hands together she demonstrates something the size of an apple.

"Wow, I, um, just have regular sized balls, I think. But, luckily I do have a pair." I roll my eyes, embarrassed.