Spinning (27 page)

“You’re gonna make a good elder statesman, D-Man.”

“Who woulda thought, huh?”

She kissed me on the cheek. “So, do you have a hot date sneaking in here later tonight?”

No, but I seem to have one sneaking out
, I thought.

“Me? Gotta be careful of the ticker at my advanced age.”

She laughed and kissed me on the cheek again. “Happy birthday, D-Man,” she said and then headed out.

I had entered my 30’s and was officially of a responsible age. No more McKittrick twins and no more sudden trips to Jamaica just because last minute airfare had dropped. I had to plan for trips. For weekend time, I even had to plan meals. Little girls had different needs when it came to nutrition than aging Manhattan spin-masters which was why Spring and I were at the grocery store, and I had a container of tofu in one hand and a box of Frankenberry cereal in the other. I was comparing the nutritional value between the two when I heard a woman’s voice talking to me.

“I hope you’re not going to mix those together.”

“No, I,” I said looking up. She looked familiar.

“Dylan, right?” she said. “Your firm did our P.R. work. Catrell Financial?”

“Hi, yes, hi.”

She extended her hand. “Janice Van Martin.”

I put the cereal under my arm and took her hand. “Janice, hi.” I hadn’t seen her in a year. She had been just as flirtatious when I was dating her boss. “How is…”

“Karen? Haven’t seen her. I left Catrell and started my own firm… Van Martin Financial Services. We’ll have our first anniversary this summer.”

Janice had to be 30.
How could anyone this attractive and fiscally aggressive be in her twenties?
She stood too close for me to see her legs.

“Very impressive. Congratulations.”

“Thank you. Maybe we could get together and talk? Drinks or something? Friday night?”

“That would work nicely,” I said. If I could find a babysitter. Maybe I could take up Jim on his birthday offer.

“D?” A noise squeaked from behind me, and Spring held up a some fresh spinach.

“Is this lettuce?”

“It’s like lettuce. Spring, say hi to Ms. Van Martin.”

“Hello.”

Janice looked at the girl that came up to her waist. “Hello...Spring, is it?”

Spring nodded.

“Nice to meet you.” She looked back at me. “I didn’t know you were married.”

“Oh, I’m not.”

“So Friday’s okay?”

“Completely okay.”

She smiled. “Good. I’ll call you on a place and time. You’re still at Mason Brand, right?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I’m glad we ran into each other.”

“Me, too. See you Friday.”

I set both the tofu and the cereal on the shelf. The exchange with Janice had left me feeling good and I decided that we were going to buy something more interesting than both.

“Are you leaving Friday?”

“Probably for a little while. It won’t be too late,” I said, feeling like I was back in high school and talking to my mother. “Would that be okay with you?”

Spring thought about it and bit her upper lip. “Okay. As long as you bring me back a present.”

A present? I’m going out on a date, not to Miami. Am I supposed to bring her a coaster?
We shook on it anyway.

I had a good time with Janice that Friday night. She was very smart, very attractive and gave enough of an indication of being interested that even the New Dylan picked up the signs. It took me a few minutes to get back into the rhythm of a date. Some of my old moves seemed superfluous and I kept reminding myself that Janice wouldn’t be interested in hearing about Spring’s cute observation of the day or the Play-Doh giraffe she made me at daycare. Halfway through my first drink, I started getting the hang of it, though, and wondered if I could get Jim to babysit Spring again in a few nights. Then I made the mistake of glancing at my watch.

“Am I boring you?”

“No, no. I guess I just have to be a little more conscious of time than I would like to be.”

“Dylan, who was the little girl in the store? A niece?”

“It’s complicated, but the short version is I take care of her.”

“Oh. So you’re living with someone.”

“Not an adult someone. Only Spring.”

I took a sip of my martini and wished it were a blue one. It wasn’t difficult to guess what was going through Janice’s head.
So you’re a pre-fab.
And there was no question that her body language shifted almost immediately. If I had been on more dates since Spring had arrived or if I was further along in my new situation, I might have
handled this with more aplomb. As it was, the rest of the evening turned into a crash and burn. Whether she intended to or not, Janice made me feel like a much less interesting person.

When we left the bar a short while later, we talked about meeting again sometime. It was only talk.

“D, where is Cod?” Spring had been asking me this weekly since Christmas, and no matter how I tried to answer, she didn’t seem to understand. I’d show her a map, but other than the blue color for the ocean, it made little sense to her. Finally, she asked Billie. She said the trip would be over Spring’s birthday and we’d know where it was when we got there.

For some reason, this worked for her.

“So you can join us then?” I said to Billie.

“I think so. It was my present to you. I’d hate to miss out.”

With Spring’s birthday on the weekend, I had big plans for us. She had never seen the ocean or a sunrise, and although she claimed Diane had made her taste some once, she had never seen a lobster. In grandiose fashion, I planned for the three of us to go on a sunrise cruise on
Spring’s fourth birthday combining both the ocean and the sunrise and if we were lucky, a lobster.

While I have pictures from the entire trip, I did, however, miss Spring puking on the boat. At one point, I saw Billie with her arm around Spring’s shoulder. I thought she was showing a maternal side I hadn’t seen before, so I snapped the picture. It shows Billie caring for a very green Spring staring over a hazy sunrise no lobsters.

Another item on Spring’s wish list involved making a sandcastle. From the warmth of my Manhattan apartment, this sounded like fun, as I had forgotten my sandcastle horrors as a kid. Then, instead of creating actual sand castles, they looked more like sand piles, sometimes in the shape of a small plastic bucket and other times assuming the shape of a small cracked plastic bucket.

In April on the north Atlantic, it’s the beginning of the season. The wind blows cold, keeping the room rates affordable. While Billie waited inside ours with the swimsuits tucked safely away in our suitcases, Spring and I began our sandcastle adventure. Having learned as a child, I knew the proper tools made the job and I had carried everything we needed to build an entire sand kingdom: metal buckets, a small hoe, two small shovels, carving sticks, and a lawn chair for me. I assumed that when I became bored or Spring became an overzealous architect, I’d watch the ocean while she finished our work of art. However, the wind had yet to die down and the sand was pelting us. When one of the buckets rolled away, I gave up the chase after a hundred feet. No, our sandcastle sculpture didn’t need buckets, shovels, sticks, or hoes to take shape. When we finished, it resembled a sand pile created by…a small cracked plastic bucket. I took a picture of
Spring sitting next to it before we ran for shelter in the room. Still no lobsters.

That afternoon, as we gathered around the fireplace, Billie grabbed a copy of a
Winnie the Pooh
book and sat next to Spring in the love seat with it. I took a picture of Billie reading, while Spring sat next to her scanning the pictures in my
Fortune
magazine. Every so often, Spring would look up or giggle, and I just watched them. It was good to be out of the City for a few days.

That night, we celebrated Spring’s birthday at a seafood restaurant. I told Spring that she could order anything she wanted. She chose the grilled cheese sandwich with French fries. On the way in, I saw a live lobster tank and had an idea. Before dessert, I excused myself and went to see the manager.

Maine lobsters have claws and pinchers. To prevent the lobsters from doing damage to other lobsters or attacking those who might want to put them into a pot of boiling water, a heavy rubber band is placed around each pincher claw. I wanted to show Spring an impressive lobster and had selected the largest of the creatures from the tank for more impact.

When the crew came to the table to sing “Happy Birthday” to Spring, I slipped in behind them and grabbed the concealed live Maine lobster with the rubber bands securing the evil-looking pincher claws. Spring loved the attention and laughed with Billie…until the last line of the song when I whipped out the lobster and held it over the candles on Spring’s cake. This caused the lobster to spasm, curling his tail even more into the flames, and sending the evil-looking pincher claws flailing and the rubber bands that held them snapping into the air. Spring screamed in a high pitch just long enough for me to wonder if it was
the lobster puppet doing the wailing. I dropped him into an inch of frosting on the top of her cake.

Not my best move. I did, however, capture the birthday moment in pixels with Spring crying and the evil lobster, sans rubber bands, covered in frosting. The picture even captured Billie’s expression that said,
Don’t take this picture
. I learned only later what the expression meant.

When the screaming died down and we made it back to the room, Spring was ready for bed. And I was, too. I apologized to her and she suggested that a chocolate doughnut for breakfast would make her feel better. Having already imagined her mother’s disapproval, I agreed. Spring had her bath and we started a story, but she fell asleep. It had been a full weekend. I watched her slide into the covers, and just like at home, she looped an arm over her pillow. I kissed her cheek, left her room and went to see if Billie was just as sleepy as Spring.

Walking into the den where the fireplace was blazing, I didn’t see Billie right away. It could have been the two glasses of champagne sitting next to a bottle of fuchsia nail polish that distracted me, or it could have been seeing Billie’s clothes folded neatly on the bed. She sat on the couch under a blanket with a toe poking beneath the bottom.

“Billie, nail polish and champagne?”

I waited.

“Billie?”

She was asleep. I sat next to Billie and sipped at the bubbles, with my feet at the fire and my glass moist with condensation. After spending much of the day in the cold, the heat felt good. When Billie nuzzled into my side, it felt even better than the fire. For a moment, I felt paralyzed. Billie’s touch felt like something from more than a
good friend. I assumed it was my imagination, but I also didn’t dare move. Looking down to my glass balancing against my chest, I trembled.

Her hand reached to caress my chest and I took another sip. Her touch warmed my heart, then curled my toes. Perhaps the six days and ten hours had been a hint at things to come and not a passing tryst. I turned my head and caught a sleepy smile on her face. Taking my glass, she sipped and then leaned in to kiss my cheek. If ever there was such a kiss to my cheek, I couldn’t recall. Her warm breath, her wet lips, the way she stroked my chest… “Billie?”

She kissed my lips. “Yes?”

“Are we ready for this?” My champagne quivered. She kissed me again. “I am.” There was another kiss. “Are you?”

Maybe.
“Yes, I promise.” I felt her heavy breath. “Is this right?”

“How does it feel to you?”

I listened for Spring. She was asleep and I knew she was so exhausted that she wouldn’t be getting up.

No longer able to keep my feelings for Billie inside, I felt the dam burst. We slipped into my bedroom and began to touch each other, as we never had before soft, feather-light brushes; firm, kneading caresses. There were deep kisses that melded us together, probing motions that drew our bodies closer than it seemed possible; flights of exquisite pleasure that somehow didn’t tip over until we were utterly ready.

As I listened to the water lap the shore, I realized that I was setting out on uncharted seas. Never had I felt such a shudder as the one I had just experienced, and it scared me. While our bodies rolled together, Billie was in my
head. And and somewhere in the world between, I lost control. When we finally finished, I rested, unable to voice the emotions I had experienced. We cuddled, while I stroked her hair. With the moon in the window, I saw her red hair sprawled across my pillows. The moonlight left a silken sheet across her ivory skin. I kissed her stomach beneath her bellybutton, creating shadows of night down her thighs.

If morning hadn’t arrived, I could have stayed there forever.

I awoke before the sun and stared quietly into the lines of Billie’s sleeping face. I loved her. There was no question in my mind. I ran a finger over her ear, removing the red strands from her cheek. I wanted to watch her sleep. I wanted to take in everything about her. I wanted to be with her in every way possible.