Connections (17 page)

Louise blotted the lettuce with a paper towel after she took it out of the spinner. She could see the deck beyond the living room. The kitchen with its pass-through counter was a perfect blind for…She caught herself before she finished the thought. It was sheer habit to think of it as a blind, as hunter and prey. She didn’t feel that way at all. In fact, she was actually comfortable. She put the lettuce leaves in a plastic bag to crisp them and put it on the top shelf, slightly rearranging the milk and soda bottles. As she cut the tomatoes on a little round wooden board, she tried to recall the times when she had been passionate with somebody. Or sexy. There had been quite a few, she supposed. But she couldn’t remember ever being
comfortable
with somebody. This was a new experience. And a much more fulfilling one.

The sudden movement of Ken’s backing up as a flame shot up from the charcoal jarred her. He waved his long barbecue fork, like a saber, knowing she was watching. “Okay!” he shouted. “It’s okay. Everything’s under control. Just means we have a great fire going.” He reassured Louise and then the rest of his audience, resting under the chaise lounge. Louise could hear Honda’s contented sigh. It was all so natural. She was natural. It was very strange. Strange and beautiful. It made her feel beautiful. She smiled at her face in the toaster as she diced the onions.

Ken pushed the briquettes around a little more. Then, satisfied, he sat in his chair, his dangling left hand grabbing clumps of fur. The dog loved it and tried to catch his fingers. Ken wanted to be with her, but he wanted more to sit here alone and be aware of her presence nearby. He liked the kitchen sounds she made…crockery scraping crockery, the metallic jangle of silverware, a faucet squeaking as she turned it on and off, and the broken hum of a barely familiar melody, keeping in time to her slicing and chopping.

“Do you have a salad server?” she yelled out to him.

He stoked the fire before he went back inside. “Why? Aren’t you going to serve it?” She opened her mouth to laugh, and he gave her a loud, affectionate kiss. “It’s on the top shelf.”

“I saw the bowl; I meant a fork-and-spoon kind of server.”

“Oh. Well, I got that too!” He went to the sideboard in the dining area and brought back sterling silver tongs. Slightly blackened.

“Nice. Let me guess. They were a wedding present and when you split, your wife got the house and car, and you settled for the silver.”

“Not even close. There were no wedding presents, and there was no wife. I told you that.”

“I know, but I didn’t believe you. I thought I’d catch you just now.”

“Did you really think I’d lie? Why would I do that?”

“It’s not that I thought you lied. I just can’t believe a nice-looking, smart, all-together guy could have escaped all this time.”

“Maybe that’s how I stayed so ‘all together,’” he teased her.

“Well, you’re not all that terrific, you know!”

“No?”

“You have one very major fault that I can see.”

“Oh, yes, what’s that?” he dared her.

“You’re a menace”—Louise patty-caked her hands against him—“who has to be watched carefully…or else you’ll burn the whole neighborhood down.”

“OhmyGod!” The words came out in a rush as Ken whirled around to face her view and then ran outside to fan the black smoke rising from the barbecue. When he finished, she was standing next to him, a glass of red wine in her outstretched hand. “Thanks,” he said. “I could use that. Let’s sit a few minutes before I bring the steaks out. It’s so beautiful at this time of day.”

“It sure is.” The sun had set, leaving a spectrum of coral to deep red on the horizon, each shade flowing into the next, as if the hues were dripping and not just puffs of colored cloud floating past one another. “Is it always this spectacular?”

“Probably. I don’t always notice. Actually, I arranged it.”

“You arranged it?”

“Uh-huh. I ordered a special showing for tonight. To impress you.” He smiled that benevolent, big-daddy smile that stopped her breath in her chest. He could be serious without being serious. That’s what she liked about him. He could say something, without requiring an answer, an embarrassed response from her. That’s what put her at ease, she decided.

As soon as they sat on the glider, Honda tried to squeeze between them.

“C’mon, you big baby, you’re too huge to be a lap dog,” she reprimanded him and at the same time boosted him up. “Do you mind?” she asked Ken sheepishly.

“I mind that he’s trying to horn in on my time. Jealous, aren’t you?” He gave Honda his hand and started roughhousing with him.

The color disappeared from the sky, but it was still light out. They sat in silence, enjoying the silence in the last of the sunset. Ken put the steaks on the grill, the meat hissing as the flames seared it. Louise’s skin was hot from the sunburn she’d gotten and from the wine. She rocked dreamily while Ken watched the meat, whistling softly.

When she had tiptoed into the kitchen for some instant coffee this morning, he was already waiting for her. It was his idea to take Honda to the beach before anyone got there. They ran in the sand, towards the sunrise. The water curled into little waves, dappled with silver in the new light, and then gurgled into the quiet. Louise watched the ocean, thinking that it probably didn’t look any different from its first day. She wondered how many people since the beginning of time had stood on the edge of a continent like she was, and pondered the vastness of the universe and the smallness of themselves.

After their full day yesterday, between the ride out, and their sightseeing by car because she was afraid to leave Honda alone in Ken’s house (“Who knows what he would do in a strange place?” she had argued), and a spur-of-the-moment pizza brought in, nothing had happened. At first, Louise had been glad. She always thought the second time was awkward. Trying to make it as good as the first time and usually finding out it wasn’t. Or realizing that the first time really wasn’t as good as you imagined it to be. Nothing happening was a relief to her. No pressure to try to match her eagerness of the first night or to enjoy it. But now, feeling as mellow as the wine she was sipping, she started to want him.

She had blurted out that he was so “together,” but appraising him as he tended their dinner, she knew it was true. He was independent, in control of his life and a lot of other people’s lives, yet he didn’t seem to have a need to display his power. That was appealing to someone who was as strong as Louise and used to being leaned on. She had a sudden urge to be inside his arms, protected, soothed. She wanted to tell him all about her life, her hurts, and give herself completely up to him. She wanted to confess that she wasn’t as strong as she pretended, nor as emotionally competent. She wanted to be a little girl in her daddy’s lap. Thinking back on past lovers, it occurred to her that the best times—maybe the only times—for sex had been when she opened herself up enough to let a little of herself out. But just as she let someone peek at her inside, she closed up even tighter than before, withdrawing for long periods into her dark moods. Louise knew she was vulnerable. She also knew that she could trust Ken Hollis with her very being.

Her insides loosened. Everything fluttered in her belly. Organs and muscles and nerves detached themselves and then rushed together, twisting into a sinewy knot. Its rhythmic contractions in her belly made her weak.

The quiet was eerie. Even the steady whiz of traffic that always hummed into Laurie’s window from Queens Boulevard had slowed to a slight buzz. A fluff of cloud crept into her, the emptiness fluttering like a wing in her chest. She was so alone.

Three thousand puppies and kittens are born every hour in the United States, 70,000 a day, keeping the animal population at somewhere close to 200 million. Laurie slashed the sentences with a red highlighter so she could add those numbers to her list of statistics. There are between 70 and 80 million canines, 80 to 90 million felines, and more than 50 million feral cats. Close to 60 percent of American households have pets; at last count, cats outnumbered dogs in popularity for the first time.

Laurie slid the magazine next to her computer and started copying the figures. As she typed, the yellow numerals popped up on the screen, one at a time like mechanical ducks in a shooting gallery.

🙧

Lenny Marcus didn’t realize that most restaurants wouldn’t be open. A lot of them were closed on summer weekends; of those that weren’t, many of them started their vacation during the holidays. He was disappointed to find signs on the doors of the first three he went to, and he ended up eating a much more expensive dinner than he’d planned. Even though it wasn’t very good, he savored every bite, knowing how much it would cost. It didn’t take much for Jessica to spend; why shouldn’t he?

He walked slowly back to his hotel. Looking all the way down Lexington Avenue from the 50s, Manhattan was like a ghost town. There was hardly any traffic, any people. It seemed spooky. He went to his room. The blast of cold as he opened the door chilled his perspiration. The dial on the air conditioner was missing, and there was no way to change the temperature setting. He put on the television and scrolled up and down the guide to see what was on. Nothing much. The reception wasn’t even as good as home.

🙧

“Ah, the stories I could tell you,” Rosa said.

“Better than the ones you already have?” Eileen asked. “Another couple these”—Rosa waved her glass—“I can. So you never missed it. Being married?”

“Naw. I wish—it would have been very nice if I’d been born maybe fifty years later. You know, to be young and single today, to have that freedom we didn’t have. That would be nice.”

“Oh, you’re a devil, aren’t you? I thought
I
was the naughty one. I was seventeen and a new bride when I came over. My Gianni was a good man. But strict. Old-fashioned like all the men in my life. Like my father, my uncle. But I didn’t know any different. I was a good wife. ’Specially when he got sick. I waited on him after the first heart attack. Took good care of him. Soon as he went back to work—the doctor, he said the best thing was to go back to work—boom, another heart attack. Who would expect him to die so young? I was lonely, you know, not used to being alone. Didn’t have anyone here. And having to support myself. People talked about widows then, you know. So I gave them something to talk about!” Eileen giggled. “Now don’t go telling people what I told you tonight,” Rosa warned.

“’Course not. You either. That’s our secret. But you would miss the excitement. Today, I mean. Not having to hide. Not being afraid of getting caught. It wouldn’t be as much fun, don’t you think?”

“You’re right. Definitely.”

Buoyed, Eileen went on. “Like there was this time…Oh, I shouldn’t tell you this at all, but I’m having so much fun. I stayed in a hotel with this man. Think of how daring that was in my day. Our day.”

“Oy, I wouldn’t think you would. Me, yes, but a nice lady like you?”

“See how old-fashioned you are? Still thinking nice ladies don’t do it?”

Their laughter filled the little apartment and stretched into long chuckles while they both remembered their own long-ago escapades.

“So what happen?” Rosa asked.

“When?”

“When you stayed at the hotel?”

“Oh, yes. Well, we were on a high floor. I was going to sneak out before him in the morning, so nobody would see us together. Him being married and all.” Rosa’s head bobbed up and down in anticipation, encouraging Eileen to embellish a little. “So there I was on the thirty-seventh floor”—she added about ten floors to the story—“standing in the hallway, about to push the elevator button. And I got so scared…I just imagined the doors opening and my father standing there, looking at me. I tried to think of all sorts of excuses why I would be in a hotel at seven o’clock in the morning.”

“But what would
he
have been doing there at seven o’clock?”

“That never occurred to me. You know how it was. You were just so scared of getting caught. It didn’t mean you were rational. I just froze, petrified that he would see me. So I found the exit door, and I walked down thirty-seven flights!”

“No!”

“Wait. That’s not the best part. All the way down, I’m thinking, what if the door is locked and I can’t get back out? And I’m trapped in the staircase for days. Weeks. Well, that didn’t happen. Instead, I was so relieved that the door opened, I pushed it hard and practically fell into the middle of the lobby. Filled with businessmen standing around. Before breakfast. It was a convention, no less!”

The happy ripples of laughter from two old ladies drifted out the window into the hot night.

🙧

The clamor of glasses clinking, animated conversation, and waiters rattling trays gave the place a festive aura. The same celebrating was going on at beach houses and country cabins from the Berkshires to Amagansett, on wooden decks and brick patios, near the ocean or in the woods or at the mountains. But these people, the ones left in town, had their city to themselves, sitting under umbrellas on their sidewalk verandas, watching New York parade by. The clang of the manhole cover bouncing as cars rode over it, the belch of fumes from the Columbus Avenue bus leaving its corner stop, the faint smell of garbage and urine permeating the smell of their food, the flashing of traffic lights and headlights and neon lights…the commotion and odor and noise and harsh illumination just added to the party mood. It was a holiday, after all.

Jason tipped back in his plastic chair, rattling the heavy metal chain that ran around its legs and through the base of the table. He looked at Christopher, whose profile next to him accentuated the angular cheeks that dominated his stubby nose. He knew Chris would be upset that in the glow of the artificial candle, Jason could see his scalp shining through his thinning hair. Jason thudded down in the chair and as he came forward, he squeezed Chris’s knee under the table.

🙧

Louise’s toenails excited him. They weren’t polished, so he could see how white the tips were. How smooth and unblemished the skin between them was, the skin they protected. The brown leather thong holding her foot to her sandal looked vulgar against her delicate flesh. He blinked away his incredible desire to hold her ankle and slip his tongue between her toes, sliding his saliva from one tiny cleft to the next. He was mesmerized by her feet. He looked away, but the image was frozen in his brain. As if he had pressed the PAUSE button. Ken closed his eyes and hit PLAY.

She was lying on her back, naked under the sheet tented over her bent knees. Her feet were flat on the bed, close together. He lay before her, leaning on his forearms. He licked her big toe, traced its cuticle, slightly tickled it around the edges. Her toes flexed and splayed. He thrust his tongue between the first two. It folded lengthwise to squeeze into the tight pocket. He moved it back and forth and then darted it between the next two and the next, at last savoring the narrowest slit between the end two. Her feet moved apart to escape the torment, revealing the long avenue leading up to their source, her source. He clamped his hands around her ankles, wanting to crawl between them, yet not daring to even look.

As he repeated his devotions to the other foot, his penis throbbed with fullness beneath him. He moved up to relieve the pressure, bracing himself on his elbows. Then slowly, relishing his own agony as much as hers, his tongue felt its way up her legs, retreated, and started again, wetter, faster. When it reached her still-bent knees, he slapped his hands under them, pulled himself to a crouch over her, and firmly but gently pushed them apart as far as they could go.

He swept the sheet away and allowed himself to look. Lying down, she was soft to the eyes. Her face and shoulders and legs, tinted pink from the rays of the sun, added swirls of luminescence to the paleness of her body. Bronze freckles spotted the parts of her that had been exposed to the air. But there, between her chest and the crease where her thighs met her torso, was the creamiest, most beautiful skin he had ever seen. Skin he had glimpsed through the nail of her big toe. The unadorned, unpretentious toenail that hinted of her unpretentious personality. Its plainness and naturalness expressed simplicity akin to innocence to him. It aroused him.

The thickness in her breasts rolled to their sides as her chest rose and fell heavily with her breathing. Her nipples trembled in their center, conscious of his stare. Even though she was tall, almost as tall as he was, her low buttocks and wide hips pulled her height down, and she always appeared shorter than she was. Lying on her back, with her behind sunk into the mattress, she was long.

He was still knelt before her folded legs; he gently rested his palms on her knees and continued his inventory of her. She watched him watch her, and it seemed that whatever his sight focused on burned from the touch of his eyes. Her saliva evaporated from the heat; she could not swallow. He could not turn away from her. He scrutinized every inch of her, unable to contain his lust, unwilling to let it go. His gaze lingered over the russet swatch of velvet concealing the opening to her soul. He thought the skin stretched over his bulging penis would tear. He parted her knees and looked. A tremor opened the mouth between her thighs; a little tongue quivered inside. Her lips suckled. Dizzy with desire, he descended upon her.

🙧

Louise sat on the edge of the chaise, facing him. Ken’s eyes were closed. She wiggled her toes and self-consciously pulled her feet under the chair before she spoke. She noticed he had been looking at them. She was sorry she hadn’t gone all the way and gotten a pedicure. Or it wouldn’t have killed her to have polished her toenails herself. God, she was so stupid sometimes. “It’s been such a lovely evening,” she said.

She thought she startled him out of a dream. Because when he tried to answer, his voice cracked.