The Frenchman's Slow Seduction (13 page)

“But Shane, hers was
blue; this one’s green.”

They’re talking about
Mrs Jennings’ dead budgie.

“I know, but I figured
it was better than nothing. I checked every place in town, Mike.
This is the closest I could get.”

Mike sits down heavily
on his chair. “Will you bring it over to her when she calls
today?”

Shane groans.
“Why
me?”

“What are you afraid
of?” Mike asks.

“She might get
hysterical if she realizes it’s not her bird. If I go, I want a
towel draped over the cage, and I’m taking off as soon as I drop it
off. Last time, she asked me in for milk and cookies.”

“Just tell her you’re
in a hurry.”

“I get all the shit
jobs.”

Mike laughs. “You do
not. You’re practically a free agent.”

“Hmmm, a free agent,”
Shane says. “I like that.”

Mike’s kindness makes
what I have to do later on even more difficult.

At lunchtime, Mike
comes to see me before he leaves to get started on dinner. Hugging
me, he says, “I’ll see you later, Rach.”

“Of course,” I tell
him.

With the surgeries
done, there are only clinic visits for the afternoon. Around three
o’clock, Mrs Jennings calls to have us return Micky.

“She’s going to find
that her bird has a long life span,” Tim says, when Shane leaves
with her new budgie. “Her old one pops off and we replace it with a
young one.”

The day turns out to be
pretty routine, which I appreciate; it’s been a long week.

At five o’clock, when
I’m alone in the clinic, the phone rings. It’s Mrs Jennings.
Already, I’m sweating.

“I’m calling to thank
you for keeping care of Micky,” Mrs Jennings says.

“It was our pleasure,”
I tell her.

“I was wondering, did
you feed Micky some of that colored birdseed?”

Surprised, I say, “Yes.
I think we did.”

“Well, that explains
it,” she says. “The color in the food must have changed his feather
color. He’s such a pretty green now.”

Unbelievable.
“He is a pretty green,” I tell her.

“Well, thanks again.
Goodbye, dear.”

Before leaving for the
day, I check for emails. There’s one from Jean Paul.

Dear Rachel:

I, too, have had a
change in plans. Unfortunately, I will be unable to meet with you
on Monday. Due to the death of my uncle, I will be out of town
until Friday. Kind regards, JP

I’m surprised by the
disappointment I feel.

When I get home, I take
a long shower. Mike always makes a special effort for his dinners,
so I choose an elegant white dress for the evening. Since it’s cool
out, I grab a white sweater.

When I get to Mike’s
place, Gordon and Vanessa are already there. I don’t feel good
about this evening. Mike meets me at the door.

“Hi, beautiful,” he
says, kissing me.

I want to run away.

Gordon and Vanessa look
at me as I walk in.

“Hi, Rachel,” Vanessa
says. “How’s it going?” Gordon nods.

“Things are going good.
Your hair looks great.”

She has gotten her long
strawberry-blonde hair cut shoulder-length with layers, and it
really does look great.

“Nice of someone to
notice,” she says, looking pointedly at the other two.

“Dinner’s ready,” Mike
says. “Let’s eat.”

He has made his special
spaghetti sauce and has set a very nice table in the dining room
with a spectacular flower arrangement in the center. He has a real
talent for flower arranging.

Mike recruits us to
carry bowls and plates of food to the table; then he opens a bottle
of wine and passes it to Gordon.

“Will you do the
honors?”

Gordon pours a glassful
for his father, then Vanessa, and then walks around the table to my
side. Pouring the wine too quickly, he spills some onto the
tablecloth. In his haste to right the bottle, he knocks over the
glass, and red wine splashes all over my white dress. Looking down,
I’m reminded of vet school field trips to the slaughterhouse, which
always left me faint.

“Sorry,” Gordon says,
trying not to laugh.

Vanessa openly laughs.
“You’re such a klutz.”

“It’s alright,” I tell
him. “Don’t worry about it.”

Mike rushes over with a
napkin and tries to mop some of it up. “Do you want some of my
clothes to change into?” he asks.

“
Dad!”
Vanessa
cries, as if her father has done something perverted. Even though
she’s twenty-one, she behaves like a twelve-year-old about sexual
matters.

“Yeah, I’d love to
change,” I tell him.

Mike takes my hand and
leads me down the hall to his bedroom. After closing the door, he
puts his hands on my shoulders. “Are you okay, Rachel?”

Looking into his eyes,
I get lost for a moment. “Of course. Really, it’s no big deal.”

Leaning forward, he
gently skims his lips against mine. It unnerves me that I don’t
have the same feelings for him.

“I miss you, Rachel. I
miss you so much.”

“Mike, the dinner.
It’ll get cold. I have to change.”

He pulls me close.
“Don’t push me out, Rachel. You can talk to me about anything.”

I swallow hard. “I
didn’t push you out, Mike. There was no room for me to get in.”

“But I’m changing all
that. Please, talk to me Rachel.”

“Later.”

“Okay,” he says, and
lets me go. “I’ll let you change.”

After he’s gone, I
choose a pair of his black dress pants, a white shirt, and one of
his patterned wool sweaters that I used to like so much. I’m not
catwalk material, but I don’t look too bad.

“You look great,” Mike
says, when I get back to the table.

Vanessa and Gordon
exchange glances. Gordon looks like he’d like to laugh. The
tablecloth has been removed, and a new glass of wine has been
poured for me. After helping me with my chair, Mike serves the food
and reminisces with Vanessa and Gordon about their favorite
childhood meals: mustard and lettuce sandwiches, cinnamon toast,
peanut butter pancakes.

When I take my first
bite of spaghetti, its tangy, sweet taste evokes my own childhood
memories. On days when my mother was happiest, she would get up
early to cook a pot of her special spaghetti sauce. After a whole
day of simmering, the sauce’s tangy smell saturated the whole house
and flooded my senses, making me feel that I, too, might
overcome.

“The dinner’s really
nice,” I tell Mike.

“I was motivated.”

Vanessa and Gordon
shift uneasily.

Turning to Gordon, I
say, “Gordon, your dad was telling me that you’re working for a
lawn care company.”

“Yeah.”

“What kind of things do
you do this time of the year?”

“Lots of things. Wrap
up trees and bushes for the winter. Cover plants with leaves to
overwinter. We’re still doing fences and stuff.”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s alright. I’d
rather be my own boss.”

“Wouldn’t we all?” I
say, smiling.

“Well,” Vanessa says,
“you’re sleeping with the boss. That’s almost the same thing, isn’t
it?”

Gordon bursts out
laughing.

“
Vanessa!”
Mike
cries out.
“Stop!”

She turns to him.
“What? It’s true, isn’t it?”

Looking more angry than
I’ve ever seen him, he says, “It’s unkind, Vanessa, and I didn’t
raise you to be unkind.”

She pushes away her
plate. “Sorry, but I can’t play happy dinner with Dad’s bit of
stuff anymore.”

Mike looks truly
shocked. “Vanessa, who taught you such hateful words? Rachel’s
someone I care about.”

Vanessa rolls her eyes.
“She’s my age, Dad. I think what you’re going through is called
male menopause.”

Mike stands up. “I’m
very sorry, Rachel. I’ll walk you to your car.” Before heading out,
I go to his room to collect my dress and sweater. When we’re
standing by my car, he puts his hands on my shoulders. “I’ll call
you tonight. I’m sorry, Rachel. I don’t know where all this stuff
is coming from. I’m so sorry.”

Driving home, I feel
like a prostitute. After a long shower, I decide to head out to a
movie or two. By the time I leave the theatre, it’s eleven thirty.
On my way home, I drive past Michelle’s apartment to see if the
lights are on, and smile when I see that there’s a party in full
swing. There are twenty apartments in Michelle’s building and she
invites all the neighbors to her parties, to avoid complaints.
Walking up to her floor, I hear a Mae West song playing,
A Guy
What Takes His Time.
Even her music cracks me up. The place is
filled with people. Never before have I been so glad to see someone
as I am at that moment to see Bryan. Putting an arm around me, he
says, “Oh dear. You look like you need a drink. What’ll you
have?”

“A double of something
strong. I want to go to the moon.”

Moments later, he hands
me a large rum and coke. “I didn’t think I had a hope of seeing you
here tonight,” he says.

I smile. “My good luck.
I didn’t know Michelle was having people over.”

“She decided to have a
party sometime this afternoon and left messages on everyone’s
machine. She’s calling it her machine party.”

“I didn’t check my
messages.”

Michelle spots me.
“Where the hell have you been?” she asks, and then grabs my arm and
drags me into the kitchen.

“To two movies,” I tell
her.

She gives me a
surprised look. “Who with?”

“By myself.”

“That bad?”

“Worse, Michelle. Much,
much worse.”

She gives me a look
that is all sympathy. “How about staying over for the night?”

“Thanks. I think I
will. Don’t worry, I’m not going to be sad and gloomy. I want to
lighten up. Your party looks like the perfect antidote.”

“Why don’t you hang out
on the balcony for a while? I put chairs and a bench out there with
blankets.”

I take her advice,
choosing the bench. The night is clear, the moon is full, and the
sky is filled with stars; perfect for a flight to the moon. A
couple of minutes later, Bryan joins me.

“Have you left orbit,
yet?”

I smile. “Just lifting
off.”

“Then I’m just in
time.” He sits down beside me. “So, how’s life, Dr Wiley?”

“I shouldn’t have
stopped riding my bike.”

He laughs. “Looks like
you didn’t have a good night.”

“No, but that’s in the
past. Right now, I’m having a great time.”

For over an hour, we
stay put on our bench, except for Bryan’s occasional trips indoors
for refills. Lazily, we chat about traveling, life, old times, his
job, my job, and countless other things that seem more interesting
the more we drink and the later it gets. Just as I’m looking at the
moon and thinking life couldn’t get any better, I feel the heat of
Bryan’s mouth against my cheek. When he reaches my lips, he kisses
me with such emotion that I give myself up to it. For minutes, we
lose ourselves in the taste and feel of one another. When Bryan
slips his tongue into my mouth, my breath catches.

“Do you want to go to
my place?” he says.

“Aren’t you afraid
it’ll change things, Bryan?”

“Rach, things already
changed for me the day I saw you at the clinic. I’ve thought of you
every day since then.”

While Bryan calls a
taxi, I look for Michelle and find her in the kitchen pigging out
on tacos.

“What have you been up
to?” she asks. “I haven’t seen you all night.”

I feel guilty about
what I’ve been up to. “Nothing much. Bryan and I are going to take
off,” I tell her as light-hearted as I can manage.

“Where to?”

I don’t lie to
Michelle. “To his place.”

“Why? What can you guys
do there that you can’t do here?” As soon as the words are out of
her mouth, she chokes on a piece of taco. After a coughing fit, she
hauls me into her bedroom. “Rachel, just what the hell are you
playing at?”

I feel my face heat up.
“I’m just taking your advice and trying to have some fun.”

Her jaw drops. “Just
where did you shove your morals tonight?”

Stung by her criticism,
I say, “Don’t be a hypocrite, Michelle.”

Her eyes fly wide open.
“I am not being a hypocrite, Rachel. And there’s a big difference
in what I do and what you and Bryan are thinking about doing. I
don’t sleep with my best friend’s brother, or my sister’s best
friend.”

Instantly, I feel like
the world’s biggest heel. “I’m sorry, Michelle. I know you’re not a
hypocrite. It’s not a one-night thing. Bryan and I have been seeing
a lot of each other lately. Tonight, we were having a really good
time, and he kissed me, and it felt great.”

She lets out a long
breath. “I know you guys care about each other, Rachel, but I think
the booze might be confusing those feelings you’re having. If you
still feel the same way tomorrow, fine. But don’t sleep with Bryan
tonight, not when you’ve both been drinking.” She’s right about the
drinking. “Have you taken care of things with Mike?”

“Almost. I know you’re
right, Michelle. I’m sorry. I’ll go tell Bryan.”

“No,” she says. “I’ll
go tell him. Why don’t you lie down in here? You look beat.”

Chapter 18

I wake up the next
morning feeling awful. When I go out to the kitchen, Michelle is
standing by the sink, drinking a glass of juice. Seeing the wall
clock, I panic. It’s after ten o’clock.

“Relax,” she says. “I
called work and told them you were sick.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did. And don’t look
so worried. They took it very well. You’re not so important that
people can’t do without you, Rachel. My mother had a saying: you
realize your significance by realizing your insignificance.”

Michelle has a line for
every occasion.