Authors: Sherri Wood Emmons

Tags: #Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #General, #Psychological

The Weight of Small Things (10 page)

BOOK: The Weight of Small Things

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An image of Mark appeared in her mind, standing on the balcony of the lake house in his bare feet, smiling at her. What the hell was she doing?

Abruptly, she pulled away from Daniel, ran her hand across her eyes, and shook her head furiously.

Daniel stared at her, his face flushed. She turned and ran from the patio, into the living room, grabbed her purse, and fled the apartment. Running down the stairs, she heard him pounding behind her.

“Corrie! Coriander, wait!”

She didn’t stop. Fumbling for her keys, she fought the urge to turn and run back to him. Safely in the car, she gunned the engine and backed out of the lot, looking in the rearview mirror to see him come to a stop in the street behind her. His feet were bare.

“Corrie!”

His voice trailed away behind her.

She drove a block, turned the corner, and stopped the car. She was sobbing now, great heaving gulps. She made no attempt to stop, letting the tears stream down her face and drop onto the steering wheel. What was wrong with her? How could she behave like that? What would Mark think if he ever found out? Oh God, what had she done?

Finally, she sniffled to a calm and realized she had no idea how to get back to the hotel. She’d followed Daniel through this maze of streets and she didn’t know how to get back. She sat a few minutes, willing herself not to scream, then pulled her cell phone from her purse and the scrap of paper he’d given her earlier with his phone number.

He picked up on the first ring.

“Corrie?”

“I don’t know how to get back to my hotel,” she said, trying hard to keep her voice steady.

“Corrie, please . . . just come back. I promise I won’t kiss you again. Just come back.”

“I can’t.”

“Please, Corrie. I promise—”

“Damn it, Daniel! I can’t. I can’t go through this again. You left us before and . . . I can’t! Please, just tell me how to get to the freeway. I can take it from there.”

She wrote down the directions he gave, then hung up. The phone began ringing as she pulled away from the curb, but she didn’t answer.

When she got to the hotel, she took a long, hot shower, as if she could wash away the day, the dinner, the kiss. She picked up her cell phone, started to dial Mark’s number, then stopped. It was after nine in Pasadena, after midnight at home. She couldn’t call now and wake him up.

Setting the phone aside, she closed her eyes and crossed herself.
Dear God, please forgive me. I’m so sorry! I don’t know why I kissed him, but I won’t ever do it again. I promise, God. I promise I’ll be a good wife. Please give me strength. Please bless my marriage. Please . . .

She lay back on the bed, her arm over her eyes, and thought of Mark. He’d be asleep by now, alone in their bed. She would make it up to him. As soon as she got home, she’d try harder to be happy, to be a good wife, to love him more.

T
he cell phone woke Bryn from an uneasy sleep. She looked at the caller ID . . . Paul again. He’d called several times the day before, but she hadn’t picked up.

Oh well, I can’t avoid him forever.

Leaning back in bed, she flipped open the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby. Where are you? I’ve been going out of my mind.”

“It’s over, Paul. I’ve moved out.”

“Look, baby, whatever I did, I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything.” Bryn ran her hand across her eyes. Her stomach churned.

“Then why’d you leave? Come on, Bryn. The bed is lonely without you.”

“I’m not coming back.”

“Look, you always say that, and you always come back. So why don’t you spare us both the big scene and just come home now?”

Bryn closed her eyes, willing her stomach to calm down.

“I’m pregnant, Paul.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them.

Bryn waited, listening to the quiet on the other end of the phone.

“Well,” Paul finally sputtered. “Well . . . don’t worry about it. We can fix that. I know a good clinic in Indianapolis. . . .”

“I’m not ending this pregnancy, Paul.”

“What?”

“I said, I’m not having an abortion. I’m having this baby.”

Silence again.

“Listen, I’m not asking for anything from you,” Bryn said. “I’m having this baby, and I don’t expect you to have any part of it.”

“Well, shit, Bryn . . . You can’t just drop something like this on me and . . . what do you want me to do?”

“Nothing.” Bryn sighed. “Just leave me alone.”

She snapped the phone closed and sat up.
Damn morning sickness!

She heard the phone ringing as she ran for the bathroom.

Bob poured her a cup of tea as she sat holding her head in her hands.

“Well, at least he knows. That’s good.”

He handed her the tea, smiling as she moaned at the smell.

“Go on, drink it. And eat some crackers. It’ll help.”

He watched her sip at the tea and nibble a saltine.

“What did he say?”

Bryn raised dark eyes to look at him. “He told me he knew a good clinic where I could get an abortion.”

Bob shook his head and sighed. “Maybe he just needs some time to get used to the idea. He wasn’t expecting it.”

“Whatever. I don’t care. I told him I don’t expect him to be part of it.”

“What if he changes his mind? What if he wants to be part of it?”

Bryn shook her head and reached for another cracker. “He won’t.

“I guess I’d better start looking for an apartment,” she said, wiping crumbs from the table into her hand.

“There’s no rush, Bryn. You can stay as long as you want.”

“You’re sweet,” she said. “But you have the boys now. It’ll be easier on everyone if I’m not here.”

“Well, don’t worry about it today,” he said. “Just take it easy. And maybe . . . maybe you could watch the boys for me again today? I’m going to call Sarah to get some names of sitters, but I have to go to work this morning.”

“Sure,” she said, smiling. “You go ahead. We’ll have fun.”

Bryn’s phone rang again after Bob left for work. She turned it off without looking at the caller ID.

C
orrie sat watching the sunrise. She hadn’t slept more than a couple hours, watching the numbers on the clock click steadily by.

I should go home,
she thought.
This morning . . . now. I should just go home. What am I doing here?

The ring of her cell phone startled her. She checked the number, her sister’s.

“Hey, Maya,” she answered. “What’s up?”

“Hey, sis! What’s up with you? I called the house last night and Mark said you’re in L.A. How come you didn’t call me? I could’ve come down for the day.”

Maya was in graduate school in San Francisco.

“Oh,” Corrie stammered, “I’m sorry. It was a last-minute trip, a story for the magazine. I’m only going to be here a couple days.”

“When are you heading home?”

“Thursday, in the morning.”

“How about if I come down there tomorrow? I can get an early flight into Burbank. We can at least have lunch.”

Corrie sat a moment, pulling her thoughts together. She hadn’t seen her little sister since Christmas.

“Corrie?” Maya’s voice rang through the phone.

“Oh, Maya, I don’t know. I’m doing this story . . .”

“About Daniel, yeah, I know. Mark told me.”

“What did he say?” Corrie clutched the phone tightly.

“That Daniel came into town for your class reunion, and now you’ve flown off to write a story about him. He didn’t sound very happy.”

“He’s not.” Corrie sighed.

“So?” Maya asked.

“So, I’m writing the story.”

“And . . . ?”

“And nothing,” Corrie said firmly.

“Okay, then make time to have lunch with me tomorrow. There’s a regular flight that gets into Burbank at ten. Can you pick me up, or should I get a cab?”

Corrie smiled. Maya was a force of nature.

“I’ll pick you up,” she said.

She wrote down the flight information, then rose, took a shower, got dressed, and drove to the community center. She had a story to write, and she damned well wouldn’t let Daniel interfere with that—not after she’d come all the way to California. It was eight o’clock . . . eleven at home. Too late to call Mark. He’d be at work by now.

“Hello, Miss Bliss.” Capri smiled when Corrie walked in. Corrie stood, startled. Capri’s hair was lavender today.

“I’m ready for my close up,” Capri told her with a laugh.

“I think I liked the pink better.”

“Oh, you’ll get used to it. Daniel’s upstairs. I’ll get him.”

Capri padded down the hallway, her blue paisley skirt hanging low on her hips beneath a short-cropped T-shirt.

Wait till the alums get a look at her.
Corrie smiled at the thought.

She heard Daniel before she saw him.

“Hey, I’m glad you came back. I thought you might not.”

“I have a story to write,” she said, fiddling with her camera to avoid his eyes.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he said softly, reaching for her arm.

“It’s okay.” She shrugged away from him. “Let’s just do this.”

“Corrie . . .”

“So, is the artist here today? What was his name? I’d like to interview him.”

Daniel sighed. “Darrel, yeah, he’s here. Come on, I’ll take you to his class.”

Corrie spent the morning talking to Darrel, then to several pregnant teenagers who were learning how to care for newborns. She ended the morning in the nursery, snapping photos of toddlers climbing, crawling, and swaying on unsteady legs as they laughed and played. A tiny girl with dark curls and coal-black eyes clung to Corrie’s leg as she sat in a rocker.

“Oh, you are just too precious,” Corrie cooed, reaching down to raise the baby onto her lap. “Look at these curls.”

“That looks good on you.”

Corrie turned to see Daniel smiling at her from the doorway. She smiled back, then set the little girl down on the rug and rose.

“I think I have everything I need here,” she said. “Except a picture of Capri.”

“Let’s do that now. Then I’ll take you to lunch and we can go meet the board . . . or at least part of it. I couldn’t get all of them here on such short notice.”

In the lobby, Corrie shot several photos of Capri. She wasn’t sure if any of them would be appropriate for the magazine, though. The younger woman posed as if she was on a photo shoot for
Vogue
.

Finally, Daniel laughed. “Okay, that’s good. Let’s get some lunch.”

Corrie stood uncertainly. “Are you coming?” she said finally to Capri.

“Oh,” Capri said, turning to Daniel. “I don’t know. Am I coming, boss?”

“Do,” Corrie said firmly. “I’ll buy.”

They walked to a nearby falafel shop. Corrie smiled at the reaction Capri inevitably drew from passersby.
Bryn would love her!

“When are you going back?” Capri asked over her sandwich.

“Thursday morning.”

“Why don’t you stay a while?”

“I’ve got to get back to the office. We’re putting the December issue together, and I want to make sure this story gets in.”

“Well, tonight you should definitely come clubbing with me.”

Capri nodded, her lavender head bobbing up and down.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. You can meet Mia. Her ex is playing in a great club in Westwood.”

“I don’t know.” Corrie smiled. “I’ve never been . . . clubbing.”

“Then you have to come! Daniel will go, too, so it won’t be just girls.”

She smiled at Daniel. “Sometimes it’s good to have a penis along . . . keeps the other penises away.”

“Good to know I have some use,” Daniel said, laughing.

“So, that’s settled.” Capri rose, brushing crumbs from her bare belly. “We’ll go at eight. The club won’t be too crowded that early.”

“I don’t . . .” Corrie stammered.

“And come by the apartment first,” Capri continued. “I’ll find something for you to wear.”

With that, she left, her hips swaying, a dark tattoo peeking above the waistline of her skirt.

Corrie sat with Daniel, shredding a paper napkin.

“Don’t worry,” he said, reaching over to take the paper from her hands.

She pulled her hands away from his.

“I’m not worried.”

“Yes, you are,” he countered. “You always tear up napkins when you’re worried.”

She smiled ruefully. He remembered so much.

“And you don’t need to worry,” he continued. “I promise I will be a perfect gentleman tonight.”

He leaned forward. “Seriously, Corrie, I’m sorry about last night. It won’t happen again.”

Corrie nodded. “You’re right,” she said firmly. “It won’t happen again. It shouldn’t have happened at all. I am a married woman, Daniel. Last night I had too much wine and . . . and I got caught up in old memories. It will not happen again.”

He raised his hands as if in surrender. “Point taken,” he said.

She rose from the table and turned away from him.
By God, it would not happen again!

After a long, somewhat dull meeting with several board members of the community center, Corrie was glad to be back outside in the hot California sunshine. At least she’d gotten a few good quotes for the story.

She smiled at Daniel, walking briskly ahead of her, then slowing to let her catch up. Daniel was always in such a hurry.

“Did you get everything you need?” he asked.

She nodded, then said, “And I was very impressed.”

“At what? My board? They’re a good bunch of people, but I wouldn’t call them impressive.”

“At you,” she said, laughing. “God, Daniel . . . you hate meetings. You always hated meetings. And you sat there so . . . so professional. Very impressive.”

He laughed with her. “I still hate meetings. But I have to do them for the center. Sometimes it feels like that’s all I do . . . meet with the board, meet with donors, meet with parents. All I really want to do is be with the kids.”

Corrie smiled. “You might actually be a good father, Daniel. I never would have guessed that.”

“There are a lot things you wouldn’t have guessed.” He smiled at her teasingly.

“Such as?”

“Oh, that’s for you to find out on your own.”

They walked in silence the rest of the way to the center.

“So,” Daniel said when they reached the building, “do you want to follow me again?”

“I don’t think so, Daniel.” Corrie shook her head. “I think I’d better not go tonight. Maya is coming in tomorrow morning, and I have to pick her up at the airport.”

“Come on! You have to go. Capri has her heart set on it. If you don’t come, I’ll never hear the end of it. And I promise it’ll be an early night. I’m too old to stay out late.”

So once again, Corrie found herself following the blue VW Bug through the side streets toward Daniel’s apartment. She looked at her watch. Six o’clock here . . . nine o’clock at home. Tuesday night . . . Mark would be at home. She reached for her cell phone and began dialing, then flipped the phone closed, chewing her lip. What would she say to him?
Hi, honey, I’m following my ex-lover back to his apartment, where he kissed me last night. Oh, and by the way, tonight we’re going clubbing with his bisexual roommate.

She would call him in the morning, first thing. She’d set the alarm for four, so she could get him before he left for work. Maybe she’d even move her flight up to tomorrow afternoon. She’d get home tomorrow night and surprise him. She’d make it up to him. She’d be the perfect wife from now on.

“Okay, I’ve got a bunch of choices.” Capri pulled Corrie into her small bedroom, where an assortment of skirts, pants, and tops lay on the bed. “Try this set first.”

She shoved a tiny miniskirt and halter top into Corrie’s hands. Corrie stared at them, aghast.

“I can’t wear that!”

“Sure you can . . . they’ll fit you.”

“Capri, I am way too old. . . .”

Capri sighed and took the clothes from Corrie. “Okay, then, these.”

She handed Corrie a pair of fawn-colored pants that laced up the sides and another tiny top.

“Don’t argue, just try them!”

Corrie sucked in her stomach as she pulled the pants on, then turned to stare at her reflection in the mirror. She looked . . . different. Definitely younger. The plunging neckline of the lace T-shirt showed off her cleavage. She looked like she belonged in L.A.

“Okay, that’s good.” Capri tilted her head, examining Corrie. “But it needs something.”

She rummaged through a pile of things at the bottom of her closet.

“Here.” She held up one spiked high-heel slingback. “Damn, where’s the other one?”

Corrie slid her foot into the shoe, smiling at the rhinestones that sparkled up at her.

“And here!” Capri emerged from the closet, triumphantly holding the other shoe aloft.

“Now,” she said, as Corrie teetered unsteadily on the heels. “You need some ornaments.”

Corrie sat at the vanity as Capri sorted through a pile of jewelry. The young woman settled on a leather cord necklace with a large turquoise pendant, dangling silver-and-turquoise earrings, a bangle bracelet, and a silver ankle bracelet.

“Okay,” Capri said finally. “Now for some face paint.”

“Oh no,” Corrie said. “I don’t think . . .”

But Capri was already tilting Corrie’s head back and brushing a dusty rose bronzer on her face.

Fifteen minutes after entering Capri’s room, Corrie emerged looking wholly unlike herself. Her cheeks were rouged, her eyes sparkled under black-mascara lashes, her lips shone a brilliant coral, and her hair had been fluffed and sprayed into a mass of curls. She wasn’t sure if she felt like a femme fatale or a fool.

Daniel’s eyes answered her question. They widened as he took in her slim legs, her flat, bare stomach, the turquoise pendant dangling between her breasts.

“Whoa,” he said softly. “You look . . . amazing.”

She smiled, then toddled forward. “I feel ridiculous,” she said. “I can’t even walk in these shoes.”

“You’ll take them off at the club,” Capri promised behind her. “They’re just for entrance effect. . . . God, Daniel! You are not wearing that! I am not walking into the Coyote with you dressed like that. Go put on something decent, for God’s sake.”

Daniel obediently changed into dark pants and a shirt Capri deemed barely adequate, and they walked toward his tiny car.

“I’m not riding in that!” Capri shook her head. She turned toward the red Saturn Corrie had rented. “We’ll take Corrie’s.”

There was no arguing with Capri. Corrie simply handed Daniel the keys to her car.

BOOK: The Weight of Small Things

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